


Cold, Cold Heart

by LivEinziger



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Vacation, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivEinziger/pseuds/LivEinziger
Summary: As each of them goes through a rough patch of their own, Elliot and Olivia are brought together for a week-long winter vacation away from everything and everyone else, which leaves them no choice but to mend their currently strained relationship. Will the ice melt their hearts or make them even colder? This is a fluff-focused story with a twist. EO.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Loneliest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: 
> 
> I own nothing unfortunately.
> 
> I took elements and places from real life (and invented others) to help build the scenery our heroes will eventually fly to and spend time at, but those are places I’ve never been to and which were used solely as inspiration. Everything depicted here is part of an imagined world that I will try to describe to the best of my ability and ask you to believe and envision for the purposes of the story – in short, the focus isn’t on being realistic to any real places or situations, just creating scenarios that could be interesting for the development of this mostly fluffy, somewhat angsty story. I apologize if any inconsistencies stand out. 
> 
> A/N.: First chapter originally published on ffnet on August 8th, 2020.

_The air departed from her lungs as if they were balloons stuck with a needle, exploding into emptiness, leaving behind the most desperate vacuum. When she tried to force her nose, mouth, chest, and diaphragm to urgently work together towards sucking in some more, it felt like breathing empty air, devoid of any oxygen, drained of any life. All she knew was she needed to get the hell out of there._

_Olivia hit the button to the elevators repeatedly, hoping the pressure and insistence were good enough hints of the imperativeness of her escape to actually will any of those pairs of stainless steel doors to instantly open up, but three of the lifts still had to go through at least twenty floors in their descent, while the fourth seemed stuck in the underground parking garage the whole time._

_She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t be seen down here another second; when she was about to go for the stairs, unsure of how exactly she was supposed to climb seventeen floors worth of steps, the elevator to her left resoundingly announced its arrival, the doors swiftly revealing the empty space of the cubicle, and she rushed into her getaway car._

_In her distress, it was a toss-up whether her feet touched the moving floor before or after her fingers pressed “17”. She kept hitting the close-door button until the steel sealed the gap to shelter her. As she felt the upward motion starting, the air became less scarce around her; she leaned against the huge mirror in the back wall of the elevator, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand while she took as many deep breaths as she could, unaware of how long she would have unrestricted access to the oxygen._

_As her lungs refueled and her heart responded, no longer hammering so hard against the walls of her ribcage, Olivia realized that the thinness of the air and the racing of her heartbeat were the only things stopping the bleeding. She physically ached as she started sobbing, willing the stubbornly slow ascent to go faster and wondering if dressed-up, heartbroken people crying their eyes out in the elevator cars was a typical sight on the surveillance screens._

_When the overhead indicator finally blinked seventeen, she ran out, pressing her hand against her mouth to keep the sobs in check, just for a little while: she just needed to make it to the end of the hallway. She reached down and removed her high-heeled, strappy sandals to gain some leverage on the carpet and, with the same hand, lifted the skirt of her dress to facilitate the movement of her legs._

_Stopping at her door, she fumbled in her clutch for the keycard, but with the shoes and the irrational haste getting in the way, she dropped it, and with it just one, frustrated sob escaped her along with a curse word. As soon as she finally swiped the card and heard the sound of the lock clicking open, she lunged into the room, leaning against the door from the inside to hold it closed, like she was running from an animal, hiding from its fatal attack._

_In the privacy of her hotel room, Olivia finally let herself cry freely, and the accumulated sorrow almost suffocated her as it came out all at once. She slid down against the door, which sustained her back upright as she landed on the floor with her face buried into her palms. She felt like a rejected schoolgirl, a humiliated derelict._

_She was attacked by the flashbacks, everything that had happened in the last few days or the last few years, every piece that had been assembled in this mosaic in her mind, this fictitious image that had convinced her something was going to happen between them._

_The glass had already been broken before, maybe a bit more gently, but now, it was shattered beyond repair, along with her heart, a heart made of ice, reduced to a million melting pieces discarded on the hard ground, each shrinking with every second into tiny pools of water, mimicking mere raindrops, until they finally vanished._

_What she had just witnessed had proved once and for all that it had all been in her head all along. In the last few days, in the last few years._

_Elliot didn’t feel the same way about her._

***

  
  
  


PART I: OLIVIA

CHAPTER 1 - LONELIEST

It was a slow day. We weren’t currently working on any open cases, and since our fellow detectives John Munch and Fin Tutuola were giving a friend from Fin’s undercover days in Narcotics a hand on something, Elliot and I were the lucky winners of weeks worth of delayed paperwork that had accumulated during the prolonged period of hectic days.

Slow days in the lives of cops equaled good news, they meant that nobody had gotten hurt. For our unit, Manhattan Special Victims, it meant that no one had been assaulted, raped or killed, and we knew better than to complain about psychopaths, sadists and child molesters taking time off. However, and I’m sure I speak for my partner when I say this, if we’re being completely honest, we would trade a day swamped with paperwork for a week in the field without hesitation.

Slow days had become a special kind of torture lately, after Elliot’s latest transition. I remember at the very beginning, when he used to pray for slow days so he could go home early, have dinner with the wife and kids, and then he’d be cranky during the all-nighters, resenting me for being the human face he saw the most in his daily life, clearly not by choice. Then, there had been a period of overall contentment, or maybe apathy, not sure, when he would still welcome any prospect of time off but also started embracing the long days, apparently not that bothered about the long hours away from home anymore. 

Now, since his wife had decided to leave him, nothing was ever good. The hectic days were overkill against his default state of weariness, and slow days were the crude reminder that he didn’t have a full house waiting for him anymore, hoping he would get off early. I love how Kathy had apparently said Elliot was hard to live with because of the job; I wondered if she had any idea how hard he was to work with because of his marriage. It was _especially_ delightful in its downfall. 

He would tell me how unfair it was that she had left, that she was a bitch for putting him and their kids through this, going on and on about it over paperwork, during stakeouts, at lunch or even while having a beer after clocking out on the evening of a difficult day. Sometimes, during those rants, I felt very tempted to ask him if he still remembered that _I_ didn’t really have anyone to go home to either, I’d never had. That maybe when he went on and on about how that was the most terrible thing in the world, he might as well have been describing how miserable _my_ life was. 

The only thing that kept me quiet was the likelihood of him answering with a resounding _you never had it, you don’t even know what you’re missing_ , irrevocably declaring himself the loneliest between the two of us. Okay, not the only thing. What also kept me from going off on him was the fact that I was pretty much his only friend and the only one he could talk to about this. So I did my job and I listened, and agreed, and asked questions with my most considerate voice. I knew that this was hard for him, that, unlike me, he wasn’t used to being on his own, and as someone that cared, I did feel for him. I swear.

And, to be fair, it had gotten considerably better since he’d moved out of their house in Queens. He had found himself a place in the city, closer to work, and that had allowed him to fall into a mostly regular routine of having his kids over, so he no longer complained so much about missing them. Now, however, he was segregated from them again for a few weeks, since they’d traveled with Kathy for their winter break, a trip to the countryside he used to be a part of even if most times he could only join them on the weekends, if at all. Now, he was not invited, period. 

But I’ve been going on and on about Elliot and said nothing about myself or how I was doing back then… Well, to tell the truth, how he was doing significantly influenced how _I_ was doing; for seven years, we’d been spending the better part of every day together, doing a difficult job that no one outside the squad room walls really understood, regardless of any and all attempts to explain. He was, had been for a while now, the most important relationship I had with anyone. My only true, close friend. 

If the world’s loneliest creature was my only friend, what did that make _me_?

I had no trouble meeting guys who would want to go on dates with me, but I’m going to tell you something: my job was a real deal breaker most of the time, with the usual outcomes being the guy ghosting me because he didn’t understand or approve of my line of work or me ghosting the guy because he was way too interested in it. Lately, I’d pretty much given up. It had been months since I’d last gone on a date, and the worst part was I didn’t even miss it. 

Apart from that, it was difficult to keep any other kinds of attachments. It was difficult to become or remain friends with someone you had to keep canceling on all the time. They would eventually just give up, and part of me would be secretly relieved. So my friends were the people I worked with, even though we had very little time for social gatherings; our quality time together was discussing gruesome crimes over cheap takeout in the lounge. 

The closest thing to a girlfriend I currently had was Casey Novak, our ADA. We’d go out for drinks sometimes, and our complaints about not being able to keep any other sorts of company were songs we sang in tune. She had actually been quite curious about Elliot’s current marital status the last few times. Initially, I thought she might be interested; a married guy suddenly single, who knew, maybe she’d always been secretly thirsting over him. 

He was a handsome guy, with an imposing, well-built and carefully maintained, muscular body. He had those deep blue eyes you could dive in, and get lost in, and drown in. His facial features could equally morph into the fiercest warrior to protect and guard you with his life or the sweetest, most loving and caring man, his rough hands equally capable of hurting and soothing. His broad shoulders and strong arms promised to carry you, sustain you. His chest could be your very own personal fortress and haven.

Point is: he’s definitely a very attractive man. 

Anyway… Initially, I thought maybe Casey had been eyeing those attributes with curiosity since they’d apparently become available, but then I found out she had been asking _for my sake_. One day, after a few tequilas, she said she was hoping something would happen between me and him now that he was separated; I had almost choked on my drink from the absurdity. We were partners… Ours wasn’t that kind of bond. Not that anybody would understand. 

Long story short, it was fair to say it was a weird time in my life. A lonely time – perhaps the loneliest I’d ever experienced. I guess maybe I hadn’t been nurturing hopes of romantic things happening between me and Elliot after his separation, as Casey had suggested, but maybe I had created a notion in a remote corner of my mind that if he wasn’t a married man and father of four, maybe my best friend would have more time for me, that maybe the increase in his loneliness would indirectly mitigate mine. I was wrong. 

My closest relationship was with a separated man who wanted nothing more than to get his old life back. My drinking buddy and girl-talk partner was someone I only had a disastrously failed love life in common with. My circle of friends were other cops, like me, who only knew how to talk about the worst kinds of violent acts human beings were capable of, but had no one else to talk to about it. 

It was a weird, lonely time in my life.

And that, specifically, was a slow day, which allowed my mind to wander off and get lost in thought like that, but only for so long; at a certain point in that dull Friday afternoon, I was startled back into the world of the fully awake when Cragen called us into his office. 

“Benson, Stabler,” he said in a commanding voice that gave us no clue what the summons was about; I exchanged a look with Elliot, who just rolled his eyes and stood up; I followed. 

“Cap’n?” he said in a monotone when we got there.

“It’s about the Weller case,” the captain said neutrally.

“Oh, for crying out loud…” Elliot muttered under his breath as we sat down. 

It had been a very tough case, and which was worse, very, _very_ high profile. The Weller was a very rich family, owner of a giant resort chain, with hotels all over the country, and Walter Weller, our vic’s father, was close friends with the Mayor. Long story short, 1PP was breathing down our necks from beginning to end, but now that the trial was over, with a conviction, no less, we weren't expecting to hear the captain mention that name again so soon.

But he had a hint of a smile on his face. “It’s not really bad news this time.”

Elliot emerged from his sulking. “That remains to be seen,” he sneered. 

“How about a little vacation on Mr. Weller’s dime?” the captain asked, something neighboring irony and sarcasm that I couldn’t quite identify in his voice. 

Or maybe it was the fact that anything involving the word “vacation” never really seemed like something to be taken seriously. “Vacation?” I repeated, like I didn’t know the meaning of that word. It was almost as if I really didn’t, actually.

“He was so happy with the work you two did on his daughter’s case that he wanted to say thank you with a week for each of you in one of his all-inclusive resorts, all expenses paid.”

Elliot smiled. “Okay, Cap, what’s the catch?”

“No catch. It’s yours if you want it. Here are the plane tickets,” he tossed them on the desk towards us to illustrate, along with a thick brochure that hit the mahogany with a thud.

Since Elliot made no movement from where he sat, I reached for the tickets to check them out: one read _Olivia Benson_ ; the other, _Elliot Stabler_. “Reno?” I asked.

“Lake Tahoe, actually,” Cragen corrected me with an air of annoyance at how he seemed to have been tasked with memorizing our itinerary and explaining it to us like a travel agent. “A _45-minute transfer_ will pick you up at the airport and bring you straight to the hotel. It’s one of their biggest resorts, and apparently they have a lot of winter activities for this time of the year.”

Elliot chuckled drily, like he still believed this to be nothing but a bad joke, but he leaned in to get the brochure and started flipping through the pages, glancing at the pictures of people surrounded by blindingly bright shades of white and blue, and Cragen exchanged a look with me, like he empathized with me for having to put up with Elliot’s moods; oh, he had _no idea_.

“Weller called me to inform me personally about it, even though 1PP had already contacted me,” Cragen said, clearly bothered by the break in the chain of command. “He says he’s included you with a group that goes there every year to ski, he says they’ll be good company to you, show you around.” 

“And when would that be?” Elliot asked, sounding a bit more confident that this was no trick.

“Plane leaves on Sunday,” I said warily, already aware of what his reaction would be.

“ _Sunday_? No way, there’s no way 1PP authorized that.”

“Already cleared. As of now, you’re both on paid vacation for a week. I never had a say on the matter.” The captain smiled at me. “You think I’d let both of you take a week?” 

“Great, but they forgot to clear it with _us_ ,” annoyance dripped from Elliot’s voice. “I mean, I need to check with the kids, Kathy…”

“I thought they were all out of town,” Cragen pointed out with caution, but I saw how it landed heavily on Elliot’s chest. 

His voice barely came out. “They are, but…”

“We’ll go,” I said, standing up and holding out Elliot’s plane ticket for him. 

“What?” he said, squinting his eyes at me with incredulity, like I’d committed treason or something unforgivable like that, death-penalty worthy.

“I said we’re going,” I repeated, then turned to Cragen. “I assume we can go home to pack?”

Cragen shrugged. “Sure,” he said like there was nothing he could do to stop us. “Like I said, paid vacation. Get outta here.”

“Thanks, Captain,” I said, already moving towards the exit. “Come on, El,” I commanded as softly as I could.

He reluctantly stood up and I hung around a bit longer to wait for him. Before walking out of the office, he turned to the boss once again. “Wait a minute, they’re giving this to us and nothing to you?” he asked. “What about Casey? She worked her ass off prosecuting the case.”

“Oh, I asked to exchange mine when I spoke to Mr. Weller,” the captain was clearly containing an amused smile now. “I’ll choose where to go and when later. Not sure about Casey, she’s not under my jurisdiction. Maybe the DA is having a similar conversation with her in his office as we speak?”

Elliot turned to me, exasperated, like he wanted help to start a riot, but I simply rolled my eyes for the hundredth time and waited for him to reluctantly give up and turn to accompany me. 

“Try to have some _fun_ for a change,” I heard Cragen say behind us as I felt Elliot’s soaring look on my back.

I only turned around to look at him when I went for my coat as it hung from the back of my chair.

“What was that all about?” he questioned, a bit less aggressively than I’d foreseen.

I shrugged. “I don’t know about you, Elliot, but I could definitely use a week off,” I said simply, which seemed to disarm his remaining irritation and get him puzzled instead.

He waved his ticket. “Are you really going?”

“Why not?” I asked, not a doubt in my mind. “Never been there, never skied… Could be interesting.”

He seemed dumbstruck by my acceptance of this, but also seemed to be racking his brain for a comeback that, apparently, he never found. 

I decided to play my part as best friend and partner yet again. Gripping at the back of my chair, I leaned in with an innocent smile. “Look, Kathy and the kids _are_ out of town, we’re not currently working on anything Munch and Fin can’t handle on their own… When are we going to get another chance of a getaway like this? No time like the present…”

If my sweet talk didn’t convince him, I’d be able to go on my own knowing that I’d tried – maybe it would be even better, I wouldn’t need to manage his moods and be able to actually socialize with different people, maybe there would even be someone interesting in this group Cragen mentioned. It had been so long since I’d last done anything just for the _fun_ of it.

To my surprise, Elliot’s lips broke into a crooked, half-smile that reached his eyes so hard that it made him look like a mischievous little boy, and I was taken by surprise, a not at all subtle fluttering in my stomach, like I’d just jumped out of a skydiving plane. 

Who did I think I was kidding? I wanted him to come. Of course I did.

“Munch and Fin are gonna be so mad they didn’t work the case,” he said, unfolding his shirtsleeve distractedly, like he was watching the scene right before his eyes.

I laughed. “It’ll serve them well for busting our chops like that saying we’d had bad luck that they were too busy with the Winwood trial.”

“Too bad they’re not here right now,” he said, putting on his suit jacket and taking his coat under his arm. 

We walked together to the elevators, and I could almost hear the gears inside his head, even though I already felt a change in the air, a lightness between us I hadn’t witnessed in weeks, maybe months. 

“What do you even bring to a place like this?” he said, lost in thought. 

“You’ve never taken a skiing trip with your kids?” I asked, then immediately regretted it; I’d just alluded to the forbidden subject of the week, put that fleeting spark of progress at risk. 

“Yeah, but...” was his gloomy reply, but I was glad, because it could’ve been a lot worse. I figured the lack of further information probably meant he’d never been in charge of _packing_ for those trips, yet another task he now had to take care of on his own.

“Heavy coats?” I said lightheartedly, showing him I knew as much as he did about this, and he smiled at me, a rare thing lately. 

I didn’t know what to expect from this; out of the blue, I was going on a trip with Elliot to a big-ass resort on the other end of the country for a week. I was afraid that his mood swings could make the endeavour a depressing disaster, but his smile gave me hope that maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all. 

Maybe we really were in need of some time off, something different from our daily routine, to strike us out of our long-lasting misery. Maybe we could even appease our current separate states of loneliness together, finding a pleasant way to keep each other company as we left everything else behind in New York.


	2. Meaningful

CHAPTER 2 - MEANINGFUL

It was after I got home that I realized how nuts it all was. At the station, I’d been focused on convincing Elliot to go on the trip, partly because, as a friend, I wanted him to take a break; secretly because, in my deepest yearnings, I wanted the company. 

However, I don’t think I had fully grasped the semantics of what Cragen had told us, the meaning of those plane tickets and hotel reservations or the determination that we weren’t going to go to work at all for the next several days (or even be in the city). I wanted to call Elliot just to ask him if that had really happened; who knows, maybe I had dreamed it all up after falling hopelessly asleep on top of – or buried under – all that paperwork we’d been working on. 

But I didn’t call him. Curiously enough, Casey called  _ me  _ a bit later that night; turns out she wanted to have a drink. Those nights out with her that I mentioned before had been happening more often lately, ever since she’d broken up with her latest three-month-relationship boyfriend. It was the typical rebound behavior: she couldn’t admit to the world that she was just going to go chastely home on a Friday night. Instead, she needed and deserved to at least have a drink with a friend, otherwise it might look like she was on the losing end of the break-up competition. It reminded me just how much I did NOT miss the dating game.

I thought maybe I should turn her down and focus on packing, but the truth was that, like Elliot, I had no idea what to bring. I decided one night wasn’t really going to make that much of a difference, maybe she could even give me some ideas. Maybe she could even help me make sense of it, validate that this was really happening, that on Sunday night Elliot and I would be hopping on a plane to the other side of the country all alone together.

I changed into non-work clothes that weren’t too dressed up either, put on just enough make-up not to look out of place in the Friday night setting, wiggled into my coat and hailed a cab to go meet Casey at her favorite bar near work. She was already there when I walked in, and she raised her glass of wine to greet me, migrating from her seat at the bar to a small table by the brick wall. Before joining her, I told the bartender I’d like a glass of cabernet, and a minute later the waiter brought it over to our table.

“So, rough week?” I teased, knowing it had actually been a slow few days for her as well. 

“I wish all weeks could be like this,” she raised her glass again and toasted. “To slow weeks.”

“To slow weeks,” I repeated before going right down to business. “So, the weirdest thing happened today.”

She gave me a smile that told me she knew something. “Oh yeah?” she asked, not really trying to hide her amusement.

I frowned. “Yeah, but it looks like you’ve already heard about it.”

“You know how news travels fast. So, you and Elliot, huh?” her eyebrows twitched suggestively.

I scoffed – so that’s what she thought she knew. “We were the detectives on the case,” I justified, all the while wondering why I was doing it. “Cragen says he was offered the trip too but asked to change the date, we were wondering if you…”

Casey’s laugh engulfed my question. “Imagine that, daddy coming along… The ultimate cockblock.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I squinted my eyes at her, even though I already knew the answer – and so do you.

“Oh, cut the crap, Olivia. It’s okay, this is me, you don’t have to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Plus, I’m not the only one who sees it; even Andrea sees it, she wanted for you and Elliot specifically to take this vacation together.”

Red flag. “What the hell are you talking about?” I leaned further back into my chair skeptically, as if those centimeters would help me look at the big picture. “I didn’t know Andrea had anything to do with it.”

Andrea Weller was one of those victims that stuck with you. Even though she came from this ridiculously rich family that could pretty much buy anything, she had always made a point to conquer things on her own. She was smart, determined, and very strong, but she’d fallen prey to an abusive relationship that had lasted almost the whole second half of her twenties and stalled all her projects and dreams. When she had finally worked up the courage to get out of it, her abuser wouldn’t accept the break-up and, after stalking her for months, one night he had ambushed and forced himself on her, landing her in the hospital. 

The boyfriend was also rich, from an entitled family, maybe not as wealthy as the Wellers, but news-worthy enough to make the case even more of a media circus and make our lives miserable with their very expensive defense attorney’s legal maneuvers. And still, even having her life dragged through the mud, videos and pictures leaked to the media, being slandered in the tabloids, turned into a slut who deserved what she got to the public eye, Andrea had never faltered. She really had been one of the strongest victims I’d ever crossed paths with, and I was really glad we’d been able to get justice for her.

I’d stayed in touch with her through it all, and even after. We’d had an instant connection, she’d always felt she could trust me and tell me things, she’d even said having me by her side made her feel stronger. I called to check on her several times after the trial and even went to see her on a couple of occasions (she was slowly recovering from her trauma and associated PTSD). 

We’d really created a bond. Even though I’d never had one, I figured the feelings I’d developed for Andrea –  _ Andy _ , as she kept correcting me – resembled those of an older sister’s, and I don’t know why, but even though we seemed to belong to absolutely different worlds, I just saw something of me in her. I can’t really explain it. 

“Liv… I never took you for a naive person.” Casey smiled like she wasn’t quite buying my surprise. “Do you really think the NYPD would accept a gift like this? It’s exactly the kind of thing that would give the media a field day about us exchanging favors with rich people.”

I felt stupid. An all-expense paid vacation on the West Coast for two detectives who, in all  _ un _ -likelihood, turned out to be Elliot and me? It sounded like a very cheap, very lazy romantic comedy plot device, and I wondered why I had so easily fallen for it – maybe I’d wanted to believe the improbable fairy tale a bit too much. I wanted to laugh at the fact that I had brought this up in hopes Casey would help me feel like it was less of an anomaly. 

But still, nothing about the reality check was helping me understand what was  _ really  _ happening.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said, dumbfounded. “But what are you saying then? What’s going on?”

Casey leaned in and lowered her voice, hinting at the juicy gossip she was about to reveal. “From what I hear, Weller wanted to distribute gift-cards for his hotels all around, to the whole precinct, the whole damn department, the District Attorney’s office… But the brass made a point to turn it down, politely of course. That’s the official end of it.”

She made a pause for effect, sipping at her wine and clearly waiting for me to urge her on. “And unofficially?” I waved my hand impatiently.

“Unofficially, Weller used his pull to discreetly ask for the time off for you and Elliot, which wasn’t that hard to do since you both had a lot of vacation days pending. He managed to get it through 1PP.”

My hand had paused mid-air, holding my glass halfway through the path from the table to my lips. “But what about the reservations at the hotel, the plane tickets…”

“Yeah, that didn’t go through 1PP at all, and they can’t know; Weller went straight to Cragen and said that once the vacation days were approved, he wanted to reward you guys with the stay at the resort and the tickets, personally, without any connection with rewarding the NYPD in any way. All at Andrea’s request, of course.”

Even with the close-knit relationship we’d developed and the green light to call me at work, at home or on my cell for any reason, Andrea had never mentioned anything about asking her father to reward me or Elliot in any way. I figured if she had, she would have talked to me about it instead of the whole cloak-and-dagger routine, there would be something leading up to it, not just this news, out of nowhere – except that it hadn’t been entirely out of nowhere.

It dawned on me. In one of our conversations, Andrea had shared with me that she and her cousin had grown up spending time at the best of the family’s hotels, enjoying free winter and summer breaks all over the country, but that their real passion had always been for winter sports. She told me she had stopped going after meeting her boyfriend, who unsurprisingly had never liked such trips, or staying at the Wellers’ resorts, or even her family; he’d wanted to keep her all for himself, and little by little, he’d made her drift away from everyone and everything she loved. 

With a broken heart, I’d told her she should go back to traveling with her cousin, that it would be a good distraction, that she should slowly try and go back to doing the things she’d given up for him. Possibly not ready to take that step yet, she had just dodged my suggestion with a question, asking me if I’d ever practiced skiing or figure skating, to which I’d replied with pretty much just a laugh, but she hadn’t found it such an absurdity, and had insisted I should definitely give it a try someday. 

And then I’d let it slip. That thing I’d always felt, the reason for saving plans like this for later, for this hypothetical someday; the reason I never really planned to travel in my vacation time – or even took vacation time for that matter.

I’d told her I would like to take a trip like that sometime, that I was sure it would be wonderful, but that, unlike her and her cousin, I didn’t really have  _ someone to share it with _ . I’d talked about how I thought there really was no point in having those experiences if I didn’t have anybody there with me, and that maybe I was waiting for someone meaningful to come into my life to start planning meaningful moments with. 

The memories came slowly, like slides in a carousel, projected onto the wall in my mind, one by one. As soon as I remembered confessing that belief to Andrea, pretty much without any thought or filter, and pretty much confessing it to myself too in the process, the next slide came up with what she had said to me in reaction to my longing for that  _ someone meaningful _ – she had asked:  _ what about Detective Stabler? _

The next picture was missing, but I guessed I must have tried to deflect it, quite poorly, kind of like when I did every time Casey would talk about me and him in that way. So that’s when it clicked, and what Casey was saying finally made sense; what if Andrea had decided to take it upon herself to make me have this experience she thought would be so meaningful, and to even add someone meaningful for me to share it with?

“Even your vic wants to see you two together,” Casey laughed to herself, as though reading my mind, before communicating by gestures to the waiter that she wanted to take a look at the menu. “Are you hungry?”

I was pretty much speechless, so I didn’t even answer her question; when the waiter came, I simply took the menu he gave me, mumbling a mindless  _ thank you _ without even looking at his face, my brain still focused on working everything out. “So no one else got any hotel gifts from the Wellers?” I was able to formulate after a couple of silent minutes.

Casey raised her eyes from her thorough analysis of the food options and smiled. “Of course not, Liv! And like I said, nobody knows that you did, I only know because Cragen told me. He said you or Elliot might ask me if I’d gotten something too and he wanted me to say I had.”

It just kept getting better; it was starting to annoy me. “Why the hell would he ask you to lie?”

“Because if you knew, you wouldn’t want to go,” she said matter-of-factly, and she knew she was right. I didn’t even try to deny it.

“And Cragen  _ wanted  _ us to go?”

“And so do I! Come on, when will you ever get a chance to do something like this?”

I laughed, shaking my head, then took a long sip of my drink. “That’s exactly what I told Elliot to convince him.”

“See? Then you know I’m right,” she looked down again, like her job with me was done. “What about chicken wings? I’m starving.”

I shrugged a confused yes, confirmation enough for her to summon the waiter again and place her order. When he was gone, she sighed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she chastised herself, contemplating my state of… I don’t know what state that was. “What difference does it make anyway? It’s still a gift from Andrea’s father to show his and especially her gratitude to you two. That much you already knew.”

“Yeah, but now it feels like cheating somehow,” I grinned, aware that it sounded stupid. “How is it fair when everyone else also worked their asses off?”

“Think of it this way…” Casey reasoned. “Cragen and I are probably the ones who should be the most pissed you guys are the only ones getting this, and yet, we’re secretly plotting to make you both get over your own stubbornness and go.”

I laughed at that, feeling ambiguous about the urge to fish for more information on her and Cragen’s motives for  _ plotting _ , as she’d put it, and ultimately deciding not to ask any more questions. At this point, I already knew too much, and I figured that was enough if I still hoped to find it in me to have the guts to go on this goddamned trip. 

“I guess you’re right,” is all I said.

“And Liv? Maybe you should see this as a sign from the universe to go for it… With Elliot. I’m serious now, no joke.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Casey. Sign from the universe? That doesn’t even sound like something you’d say.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” she seemed to agree with me. “I just think you’ve both gone through a lot lately and you should both take this chance to let loose a little bit… forget about trying to keep everything so serious and professional the whole time. I’m not telling you to jump him… Even though it wouldn’t be a bad idea, I mean…”

She trailed off, like she was imagining something really great involving Elliot’s physical attributes. I couldn’t help following her down that path a little bit, just enough for my cheeks to blush, but I told myself it was from the cabernet. I took another mouthful for good measure.

“All I’m saying is forget about work, and cases, and his family drama… Just try to enjoy this and each other’s company. You could both use a break, so take it.”

I sighed, and I hated to admit it, but I didn’t find any arguments against her logic. The waiter approached with the chicken wings, getting me off the hook, and I sighed with true relief. For the rest of the night, Casey tried to convince me of all the fun things I should do as the lucky winner of this  _ present from the universe _ , and I left the bar thinking maybe it wasn’t such a ridiculous idea.

But it was short-lived; I went to bed that night with my head full of questions. I thought about Andrea Weller and her attempt to reward me somehow, and it both warmed my heart and made me feel guilty knowing this was all  _ for me _ , because of me, even Elliot’s part in it as my companion. Did I even feel like I deserved this just for doing my job? What about everyone else? I had been so naive to believe that they would all be enjoying stays at the Wellers’ five-star hotels all over the country. But what should I do now, that I could no longer hide behind my convenient innocence?

I considered texting or calling Andrea, but I found myself at a loss for words; should I thank her? Should I tell her it was too much and I couldn’t accept it? That it was even kind of unethical? Now I had convinced Elliot to go, was I supposed to  _ un- _ convince him? Which brought up a brand new discussion: should I disclose this information to him at all? If I did, would he give up on going? If I did, how was I supposed to explain why Andrea had decided he was the  _ meaningful person _ I’d like to share a winter getaway with?

I remembered Casey telling me about Cragen calling her and asking her to back up his cover story. It made me laugh, because this was possibly the hardest to believe of it all: that the Captain would embark on this week-long getaway idea and its possible matchmaking implications – had Andrea said anything to him about her suspicions there was something between me and Elliot? – to the point of lying to us to make us accept the offer. I remembered his incredibly well-executed poker face.  _ You think I’d let both of you take a week?  _

Eventually, sleep claimed me in the middle of that maze, and I had question marks for dreams during my restless slumber.

***

  
  
  


In the morning, I woke up early and got started on packing; I figured that, if I decided to go, might as well be ready, and it also gave me something to focus on rather than the chaos inside my mind. I set aside my biggest suitcase (which wasn’t really very big) and filled it with the warmest clothes I could think of, figuring that anything specific for skiing or whatever (were we going to ski? I seriously couldn’t picture it) would probably be available once we got there. 

That’s when I realized I wanted to go; I was actually  _ excited _ . That strangely made me feel better about accepting the gift, it was like a higher force above the deafening clutter in my head, bringing about a soothing silence. 

But what finished selling it to me was the text I got from Elliot in the afternoon.  _ Texts _ , actually, plural.

_ Pack for me? First round in Tahoe on me. _

I laughed, then deliberated on a reply for a few moments before settling on something equally playful.

_ All-inclusive, remember? _

I put the phone away, still smiling, but it chimed again.

_ Its the thought that counts. _

I smiled a relieved  _ what the hell _ and tried not to overthink this any further. I already did that with everything, and lately, I was really tired of getting in my head. An opportunity to take a break from everything – including, if possible, my endless, torturing, inner monologue – had just fallen right into my lap; might as well take it.

Feigned innocence was my thing lately, I slyly noticed also, as I deliberately ignored the way my heart started thumping hard in my chest when the cell phone blinked his name on the screen, how a part of me was secretly celebrating that he seemed to be excited to go, too – maybe excited to go  _ with me _ ? I’m not stupid. I knew very well what was going on.

Okay. I was in love with him. There, I said it. It was hard for me to put it into those terms back then, but that’s the truth. Translating it into words meant confessing to the crime, admitting defeat when you should have been able to fight something like this, it’s what any good person would do. It was wrong: he was married. Or at least he had been when this all had started. 

And there’s nothing fun about admitting that you’re in love with a married man, and there’s nothing fun about pining for a married man, because it’s so obvious and so cheap and so below you, and you don’t want to be that person, and you’re absolutely terrified that anyone might ever come close to  _ suspecting  _ you might be that person. 

But I was, in fact, in love with him, I had been for a long time, probably longer than I’d like to admit even now. But even after his separation, it still felt criminal. It did, because, for all intents and purposes, he wanted to fix his marriage, he wasn’t interested in moving on. So, I didn’t want to acknowledge it, I didn’t want to concede even to myself that there was a part of me that was giggling over a text message, the same one that had also been hoping something was going to change after his wife had left him, only to end up crushed when it didn’t.

Now, that part of me was fueling up again on this trip and the possibilities it might bring for changes in that forbidden, unnamed direction. I was pretending not to see any of it simmering just below the surface, but on some level I knew, even as I fought hard to stifle both, that I was equally contaminated by the clandestine thrill that something might happen and the absolute fear that those hopes would just be shattered once again – they were inextricable sides of the same sinful coin. The reward and the punishment for loving someone who’s not available.

All those thoughts were still hecticly twirling around in my brain as I waited at the airport on Sunday night – and mind you, this was me trying  _ not  _ to overthink this. I’d already checked my bags, but I was waiting for Elliot before going through security. We hadn’t communicated after the texts the day before, and that ambivalent, thrilling panic was screaming at me:  _ what if he doesn’t show up? _ I checked my watch; boarding was still about forty minutes away, so I could wait a little longer. 

As I debated how many more minutes longer –  _ ten? twenty? why a round number? why not fourteen, seventeen? _ – I saw him, wearing jeans and a navy blue sweater over a white t-shirt, rolling a big suitcase with one hand, carrying a heavy coat under his other arm. He made a small head movement when he saw me, then walked in my direction. When he was close enough, I stood up to greet him, and felt immediately and unexpectedly awkward. 

We never met outside of work, so aside from  _ heys _ at crime scenes and  _ good mornings _ at the precinct, I didn’t have a big repertoire with him. How do you greet a friend like that? (Like  _ what _ ?) What kind of friends were we? Close enough for a kiss on the cheek? A hug? Close enough for much more meaningful things, but possibly not enough for a kiss or a hug without a very good reason. 

He ended up unknowingly deciding for us both by parking his suitcase in front of him, establishing a distance that wouldn’t really allow me to approach, but his  _ hey _ came along with a big smile, one I wasn’t used to seeing at 7PM on a Sunday night – I wasn’t used to seeing him at 7PM on a Sunday night in any smile-worthy situations.

“Good evening,” I smiled back. “So you were able to pack then?”

He smiled, all those teeth showing again, it was blinding. It made me want to keep finding ways to make him smile like that. This seemed like a good start. But his smile was all the acknowledgement he gave our playful messages, as he proceeded to report what had truly happened during his packing struggles.

“I had to drop by the house to get the big suitcase and some winter clothes that were still there.” I hated witnessing it as that slightly tortured look that spoke of the drama of having been to the empty family house colored his face for a moment. “Where’s baggage check?” he cleared his throat and his gloom. 

I led the way, and after we were done getting rid of the bag, we went straight to security so we could go sit near our gate and wait for boarding to begin, coffees bought nearby warming up our hands and insides as cold air stubbornly swirled around the open spaces around us. Elliot was mostly quiet, so I figured he was thinking about something he either wanted to talk about or desperately  _ didn’t  _ want to.

“So how are things…” I suppressed the  _ at home _ that would usually finish a sentence like that. I knew whatever it was, it was about her, so I decided to go with the name, point blank. “With Kathy?” 

Elliot shrugged. “Wouldn’t know,” he said dismissively, looking at his hands surrounding the steaming, lidless paper cup. “Haven’t talked to her in weeks. The kids call me themselves to set up pick-ups and drop-offs, and the only news I had from her were the divorce papers I was served with last week.”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that…” I said, also sorry I’d asked anything. “I didn’t realize that’s where things were at.”

“Me neither,” he agreed wistfully. “But I don’t wanna talk about that,” he turned to me with a smile. That smile. “Week off means a week off from everything, right?”

All those teeth. Like my excitement for the trip and his text message, that smile had the power to silence my doubts, but as relieving as it felt, I tried really hard not to get used to it as I smiled back. “Guess it does.”

I was already failing miserably.


	3. Magic

CHAPTER 3 - MAGIC

The flight wasn’t very long, but it was long enough to be exhausting. It was too many hours (about seven) sitting in the same position, the stiffness of my body distracting me from trying to fall asleep, the metallic sound and spiky feel of the earphones keeping me from focusing on any of the (not really very interesting) movies and TV shows available for entertainment while triggering the beginnings of a headache – but it was still better than the alternative, which included a baby crying incessantly three rows behind us. In short: it was uncomfortable and it made me forget the thrill of the trip for a while.

Elliot and I were silent for most of it, only talking a little about how he was – not afraid, he didn’t like it when I used that word, more like apprehensive of flying, plus the occasional communication required for passing on food or drinks and returning utensils. I also had to ask him and the old lady in the aisle seat to excuse me to go to the bathroom once (I avoided it until I couldn’t take it anymore) and, when I came back, she regarded Elliot and me with a combination of warm smile and tilted head, and I thought I heard her murmur something about young love that made me blush and avert my eyes from Elliot’s.

He dozed off a few times and I guess so did I, and while he settled for movies, playing a few of them consecutively, whenever his eyes were open they would fixate on an unidentifiable direction ahead, a lost stare, that seemed to pierce through the screen while it was clear they were seeing something completely different from the actors soundlessly moving and speaking. 

Whenever my eyes were open, now and then I would recall what Casey had told me and wonder if I should tell Elliot about it. He was already quite literally onboard, strapped to his seat mid-air, it’s not like he could still change his mind about going, right? But what if he got mad at me for not telling him before the plane took off? Stirring up a conflict with him was definitely the last thing I needed.

At one point, I was staring at his sleeping figure for a good five minutes: his eyelids covered the movement of his irises from one extremity to the other and back, while his frame fidgeted restlessly in the narrow seat, his arms crossed as though even a nap required a huge effort to gather patience and his attempts were failing. I remembered the peculiar shade of blue in his eyes at the airport, the sadness of the empty house and unsigned divorce papers multiplying in an inward kaleidoscope – I wondered if that was the sight he saw now, through the screen or projected onto the inner walls covering his agitated orbs. I decided he needed this, he needed this time off. I wasn’t going to spoil it for him.

I was convinced not to say anything long before I realized I’d never really had the intention of risking the loss of my meaningful company.

The food aboard the plane was terrible; a couple of small pieces of fruit, a sugar-free yogurt and some sort of meat sandwich that made me regret not choosing the vegetarian option: whatever that thing between two pieces of stale bread had been sliced from, I wouldn’t be able to tell. And therefore, when we landed in Reno, I was starving. It was four hours earlier there, so it was only 9PM, but I was so exhausted that I felt like the only thing keeping me upright was my body’s instinct to seek food for immediate survival. 

As soon as we walked out after baggage claim, I nudged Elliot’s arm: I had identified a man holding a sign with our names and wearing a maroon suit-like uniform. After a warm greeting I had very little energy to reciprocate, he led us to an SUV with the hotel’s logo, that read Weller Northstar Ski Resort, putting our bags in the trunk as we sat together in the backseat. 

The guy – I was too tired, but I think his name was Mark – was good at small talk; while he drove, he started by asking where we were from, but refrained from questions that could be considered too personal or require too much effort from two people who had been flying all day. After our brief replies, he moved straight to asking us if we were hungry. Upon hearing our affirmative, more energetic responses, he started telling us about all the different restaurants inside the resort, all of which were included in our reservation, meaning we could dine at any of them at no additional cost. 

“I like the sound of that,” Elliot turned to me with a small smile on top of his own exhaustion, and I wondered if he really hadn’t regarded all this as a bit of an atypical gift. 

It occurred to me then as I turned my head, observing through the window the whiteness that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker as the road led us up hills that turned into mountain, that maybe he also knew he needed this, and maybe he even wanted this, and for that reason he might have chosen to ignore any objections his brain might have come up with, including suspicions. In the end, Casey was right: it was still just a gift from the Wellers, happy with our role in getting justice for Andrea. 

Closing that case once and for all, I went back to the conversation about restaurants, and by the time we drove into the complex, we’d already settled for an Italian place Mark had spoken highly of, so he drove us directly there. 

The first thing we saw upon sliding through the gates was the luminous ice-skating rink, gleaming beautifully, almost blindingly against the black of the night. Some people were still skating on it, a few of them even risking a few Olympic-looking moves. Passing by the buildings that surrounded the posterior side of the rink, we entered an enormous space that mimicked a little town, complete with mock streets, obviously packed with stores, cafes and restaurants –most of them closed at this time, as it was almost 10PM now–, the sidewalks donning trees decorated with string lights, all surrounding an enormous building in the center, no doubt the actual hotel.

Elliot touched my arm to direct my attention to the sight behind the tallest building: the majestic, white mountain, strikingly beautiful and bathed by moonlight in such a splendid way that it seemed to be backlit from underneath, pine trees forming neat, straight lines. Some of the biggest trees at the highest top of the mountain were illuminated too, and so were Elliot’s eyes as we exchanged a fascinated look. 

Mark dropped us off in front of the restaurant and told us not to worry about our luggage: it would be waiting for us in our rooms back at the hotel. He also said we didn’t have to stop at the front desk, because check-in was already done, then handed us our keycards, which came inside these little leather wallets. 

He also gave each of us a small bag containing brochures and maps of the complex as well as a magazine about the main attractions in the area surrounding the Northstar Mountain – where the resort was located and now so were we, one of the main ski spots in the Tahoe area. The bag also contained a pack of gum, a bottle of water and a small bag of chips. He unfolded one of the resort maps to show us how to get to the main building afterwards on foot, but also told us that we could ask the restaurant staff to call for a shuttle to take us there if we wanted. 

“You realize we don’t need to walk at all while we’re here if we don’t want to?” Elliot said, looking like a happy kid around the tree on Christmas morning.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll want to,” I replied, making him grin. 

A handsome man wearing a loose, white shirt under a fitted vest opened the glass door for us with a welcoming smile, and I found myself thrilled to experience all these new experiences with Elliot, quite the happy kid myself right now; I hoped my sluggishness didn’t come across as lack of interest. 

The man, whose name tag may or may not have read Alan, asked us where we’d like to sit, motioning to the tables, of which only one was occupied by what looked like a family – a couple and three kids, a small five-year-old-looking boy, a girl a few years older, probably about eight, and a teenage girl, maybe fourteen years old. 

I glanced at Elliot, searching for any signs that he was upset at the sight of that group when he was alone with me instead of sitting to eat with his own family, but he didn’t seem to pay much attention to them; he just pointed at one of the sides, choosing a table that sat in a corner, right next to the glass wall.

Alan led us there, pulled my chair for me, then summoned a colleague before politely wishing us a nice dinner and going back to his post by the door, even though it didn’t look like they were still going to receive many other walk-ins. 

His replacement brought us the menus and greeted us. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs.?”

What with my momentarily slow brain function, it took me a minute to understand the question, and I threw a puzzled look at Elliot, who smiled at the waiter. “Just Elliot and Olivia,” he said, then turned to me, still smiling, before directing his eyes down to the drinks menu, his choice not to set the waiter straight about our non-marital status to each other not lost on me. 

“Perfect,” the waiter replied. “I’m Rob and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to order something to drink?”

“Yeah, Rob, what do you recommend?” Elliot ran his eyes through the endless list, and the way he seemed completely used to this blew me away. 

I barely had the energy to acknowledge that there were just too many options, readying myself to order a glass of cabernet, but then Rob showed Elliot a specific section of the menu.

“We have a really good bartender, so I’d definitely go with one of the cocktails.”

“Right,” Elliot nodded and went back to the list. “I’ll have a Whiskey Sour then, please. Liv?”

I’d been hoping to leverage on the time Elliot took to choose his drink, but he was way too fast; I was still reading through the list, but my fatigued brain wasn’t registering much of the information. Rob approached me and saw it as my finger rested next to a drink named Aged Rum Daiquiri.

“Do you enjoy daiquiris?” he asked politely, to which I only replied with a confused nod. “This one is made with a special kind of aged rum, which makes it more appropriate for the cold weather.”

“Great, I’ll have that one then, thank you,” I said, glad to be getting this over with. 

“Excellent choices,” Rob said. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

We thanked him and, as he walked away, I let out a long sigh. I realized that, as welcome as I was feeling, ever since we’d left the airport we’d been pampered with too much attention from strangers, which wasn’t a bad thing, but I felt relieved to just be left alone with Elliot for a little bit. In New York time, it was already almost two in the morning, and my body refused to accept the existence of different time zones. 

“Tired?” Elliot asked softly. 

“Yeah, the only reason I’m not falling asleep on this table is I really need to get something to eat first.”

He laughed. “Same,” he said, nodding. 

Rob came back to pour us each a glass of water, and I realized how thirsty I was when I drank most of mine in the first sip. A few moments later, he came back with our drinks, beautifully designed in exquisite glasses, Elliot’s in a tumbler, and mine in a shallow, rounded glass that looked like a bigger champagne saucer.

I took a long first sip and let the liquid do its magic. In my tired, unfed body, it happened very easily, like a loud voice in a long, empty hallway, the echo instantly reverberating as I felt all my extremities tingling, touched by the sensation of the alcohol. That granted me a last surge of energy I hoped would last until the end of this dinner and helped relax my stiff muscles. I felt the instant buzz, and it felt so good I might have let a little moan escape. I think I did, because Elliot definitely noticed it. 

“Good?” he asked, smiling as he held his own glass. 

“Very,” I said, like I didn’t want to spend any of that newly borrowed energy on words, but I smiled back. “Yours?”

“Great. Wanna try it?” He held his glass out to me, and I offered mine to him in exchange. 

We sipped each other’s drinks, and I contemplated how his matched him; stronger, going down your throat a bit harsher, more urgent, imponent like him, impossible to ignore. Made me want to order one next. 

He watched me carefully and I wondered if he was inspecting whether I could take the drink, and it suddenly seemed very important to show him that I could. Maybe I even would order one for myself, just to show him.

“Great indeed,” I confirmed, returning his glass. “And mine?”

“Loved it too. I guess Rob was right, their bartender is really good. Especially if we get to test his talents on Weller’s dime.”

I threw him a guilty look, but he didn’t seem to notice; well, we were on Weller’s dime. And that case was closed. The alcohol helped me swiftly let the worry escape beneath my fingers like dry sand; my hand was busy holding my glass.

After taking a bit of the edge off, I felt able to look at the food menu. The restaurant’s specialty seemed to be pastas, which was no surprise, but it seemed too much for a Sunday night to me. I ended up going for a grilled chicken with a side salad, and Elliot ordered a steak with mashed potatoes. Our first drinks seemed to dry up on their own before the food arrived, so we ordered another round. 

We’d decided not to order any entrees since we wanted to get to our rooms soon, but I regretted it as my stomach belatedly disagreed, complaining of its state of emptiness. I was just about to break protocol and turn to my little bag of chips from the welcome package when the food finally came. It was good, but not the best we’d ever had; we both agreed maybe we should have ordered the pastas after all. 

We decided not to order dessert; with my hunger satiated and two drinks loosening my muscles, all I wanted was a bed. A preposterous thought came to mind about how I was measuring everything in we’s, like we were this one unbreakable unit, and an even more outrageous thought followed, resenting the fact that the unit would break when we did get to the part of finally going to bed. 

A bit scared of myself, I decided it was enough alcohol for me, even though I realized I was only mildly inebriated when I stood up and noticed I had a pretty good hold on my motor functions. Elliot tried to convince me to order a third drink, but I apologized and he said it was okay; we would have a week worth of opportunities to drink. 

We again.

If we’d actually called for a shuttle, I might have fallen asleep, so I told Elliot I wanted to walk, to which he made no objection. We walked slowly; it was cold, but dry and not windy, so it was actually pleasant. It was a beautiful night, no doubt, and the sky was so clear that, in addition to the moon, almost full, we could see a million different stars and planets. I didn’t remember the New York sky looking like this, but maybe that was just me never bothering to look above the rooftops of the tallest buildings.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful,” I mumbled, my lips not as agile with the sleepiness and the alcohol teaming up, especially when most of my last battery bar was focused on detecting Elliot’s eyes on me from my peripheral vision. 

“Beautiful,” I heard him agree, his deep voice sending a shiver through me that I attributed to the cool air at the time. 

He offered me his arm, which was actually great help in my state of exhaustion, not to mention comfortable, and for a minute it felt like we were in a fairy tale, a parallel reality, walking through these clean, empty streets, the bright sky and the lighted trees adding an air of magic to it all; there were also no dangers around, no perps to chase, no crime scene, no rapes, no rats, just me and him, my arm hooked in his like we were used to doing this. 

Maybe in this little, magic slice of reality, we were.

The huge, dazzling white mountain in the background, lined by the ski tracks and the cable cars, only added to that dream-like thrill. 

Elliot gently let go of my arm as we walked into the main building, and I felt the loss immediately, wondering if he was afraid they would think we were married here, too. If he was, his fears were unfounded; we were greeted by a smiling young woman with black, curly hair and glasses, and she knew exactly who we were.

“Good evening, Mr. Stabler, Miss Benson. It’s an honor to have you here at Weller Northstar.”

“Thank you so much,” I gathered the energy to say. 

She led us to the elevators. “This way, please. Your rooms are on the seventeenth floor, do you already have your keycards?”

“Yes,” Elliot took his little wallet out from his pocket when we parked in the space between the two rows of lifts. “Room 1714,” he read.

“Exactly, and yours, Miss Benson, is room 1712. Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”

“Not necessary, thank you though,” Elliot replied, and I was glad; I didn’t want to interact with anybody else tonight.

“Would you like to schedule wake-up calls?” the young lady asked sweetly, but I just wanted her to shut up. “Not for me, thanks.” I was too eager for my sleep to think about limiting it in any way.

“Me neither, thank you,” Elliot said. 

“All right,” the girl smiled. “Anything you need, just call the front desk. I hope you enjoy your stay with us and have a great night.”

We thanked her once again, and I don’t think my energy was enough to even fake a last smile for her benefit. Elliot yawned, a long yawn, triggering mine, just when the doors to one of the elevators opened. 

The ascent took maybe a couple minutes, but it felt like eternity; already on our floor, there was also a bit of a walk to our rooms, as they were almost at the end of the corridor. They were actually right next to each other; the odd-numbered rooms were on one side, and across from them, the even-numbered ones, like ours. 

When the time came to say goodnight to each other, it felt weird, unnecessary; for a moment, it was like neither of us knew quite what to say or how to part; we’d been together through all this, it didn’t seem to make sense to go our separate ways now. 

I had no idea what to say; I thought about asking him what we were going to do the next day, but we hadn’t even talked about what we wanted to do during the trip at all. Well, we needed to eat before we did anything else, right?

“We meet sometime tomorrow to find out where breakfast is served?” I asked.

“Sure, Detective,” he joked. “I think that’ll be an easy investigation, so no need to start too early. What do you say, 9AM? Or do you want to sleep in?”

I checked my watch, and it wasn’t as late as my body thought; it was barely twenty past eleven, so 9AM sounded like enough time. 

“No, nine is good,” I said, finding out I was actually nervous all of a sudden. 

“Okay,” he said. “At nine we meet right here then.”

Alcohol and sleepiness tried convincing me it was okay to even consider trying to find a reason not to let him go into his own room, but I was luckily still in control enough to contain any related impulses.

“Good night, El,” I said, biting back an embarrassed smile.

“Night, Liv,” he replied, no smile, his eyes suddenly moving away to an unknown direction, as though he had suddenly remembered looking at me was dangerous.

We both hesitated for a moment, even though we weren’t looking at each other anymore; then, I remembered what I was supposed to do. I grabbed my keycard and swiped it, hearing the click of the lock releasing the door. I turned to see he had the little wallet in his hand, but hadn’t taken the actual keycard out yet, and now he was flat-out staring at me, serious, unmoving. I stared back for a second, waiting for him to do it, but he seemed intent on watching me go in, so I did. 

“Night,” I repeated as I walked into my room, leaving Elliot behind.


	4. Stay together

CHAPTER 4 - Stay Together

  
  


I closed the door behind me, unwillingly welcoming the feeling of loneliness that came in like a gush of cold wind. I didn’t know why I was feeling like that, because every single day I would go home after work, get in and close the door and be alone. That was my routine. Maybe it was the fact that I was so far away from home, somewhere I didn’t know anyone. 

Anyone except for Elliot, but sometimes knowing him was the loneliest thing of all. He was staying in the room next door, but it might have been miles away, it was just as inaccessible. I had just left him behind and it was like a part of me had stayed with him. So maybe my loneliness was the loss of him for the night. Maybe? Who was I kidding? 

And I’m also lying when I say I didn’t feel the same loneliness back at home. Of course I did. Some nights it was better, some it was worse, but the fact was that even after spending so much time together as we were used to, and even here, where everything seemed different somehow, there always came a time when we would retreat to our separate corners, behind closed doors. There were always layers separating us. 

I tried to stifle those feelings; it was way too late for drama, and I was really, really tired. I looked around, taking in the view of the room for the first time: it was huge. At the entrance, there was a living room-like area, with a couch, two chairs, a coffee table with magazines and newspapers on top of it and a fireplace, and to the right, a small kitchen of sorts, with a two-burner cooktop, a sink, a fridge and a counter with two stools. Further inside to the right, behind a divider, was the actual bed, a huge one, king-sized most likely, and the expansive bathroom, with a large tub on the back wall. 

My bags were in the back corner of the room, near the divider, and I had absolutely no energy to open them that night. All I did was take off my clothes, forget them forever on the floor, take a quick shower and go to bed, without even bothering to put any clothes on, I’d just deal with that in the morning.

When I woke up, I realized I hadn’t closed the blinds, so sunlight invaded the room – probably what had slowly eased me back into wakefulness. It was 8AM, and I felt very well rested, so much so that I didn’t even have any feelings of jetlag, I just accepted it was 8AM and went along with it. 

I took another shower and finally opened my suitcase; I started hanging my clothes in the closet so they wouldn’t be too wrinkled. I debated whether to unpack completely, seeing as we were only going to be there a week, but I ended up doing it. I put on simple, warm clothes (jeans and a blue sweater, plus a black scarf and a heavy coat that I took under my arm as I left), and a little make-up, and when it was about five minutes past 9AM, I left my room, carrying only my phone, ID, the keycard for the room and a credit card just in case, even though it didn’t seem like we’d be needing those much around here. 

Elliot was already waiting for me outside, and he gave me a quick, distracted smile as he replied to my good morning. “Did you sleep okay?” I asked. 

“Uh… Not so much,” was his vague reply, and he didn’t volunteer any more information. “You?”

I smiled. “I feel like I didn’t even move, slept through the whole night.”

He replied with a grunt, and I was a bit scared he might be back in a bad mood. I wanted to ask if he’d heard anything from home, from Kathy or the kids, but as I was also afraid of the answer, I contained the urge. 

“The room is great,” I commented instead to fill the awkward silence that had set in. 

“Yeah, it really is,” was all he said, seemingly lost in thought.

“So, I was looking at the brochure,” I insisted, bringing his attention back to me from wherever it was. “There’s a main salon downstairs past the front desk where they serve all meals and also hold parties on Friday and Saturday nights. But of course, there are other restaurants outside of the building, even to have breakfast at, if we want.”

“We can go to the hotel restaurant today, it’s just easier,” he said flatly. 

His lack of enthusiasm almost made me want to go back to my room, but I just shrugged. “Fine by me.”

When we walked past the front desk, a man called our names. It was a different man from anyone we’d seen the night before. He claimed he had a message for us; we were supposed to look for an Alison Weller in the restaurant; she would be sitting at a big table with her brother and their friends – I figured this was probably the group the Captain had mentioned, the people who would show us around. 

Elliot cringed as we walked to the restaurant. “Do we really have to talk to these people?” he said. 

“Let’s just be polite and say hi, if we don’t want to, we don’t have to do anything else with them. But maybe it would be a good idea, since we don’t know anything around here.”

_ And you don’t seem too interested in changing that _ , I completed in my mind, containing an eye-roll.

He didn’t reply. The restaurant was quite full, with most tables occupied, but we easily identified a long table in the corner with eight people sitting around it, eating and engrossed in a high-spirited conversation. We approached, kind of shy, and Elliot gave me a nod that said he wanted me to initiate the contact. Of course he did.

“Alison Weller?” I said, not very pronouncedly, afraid I might sound too much like a cop.

A very pretty woman with highlighted hair turned to look at me and opened a big smile. 

“Detective Olivia Benson?” she pointed a finger at me, standing up and coming over to greet us. She turned to Elliot. “And you must be Detective Elliot Stabler, right?” 

“Yes, ma’am, nice to meet you,” he said politely. 

“Please, just call me Alison – Allie!” she waved off his formality, then started talking really fast, not really giving us much of a chance to reply. “Is this your first time in Tahoe? I heard about how much you helped Andy, our whole family really. Uncle Walter told me you guys would be coming here to spend a week and told me that since I’d be here with my friends, I might show you guys around, invite you to do things with us… If you want of course. Would you like to join us for breakfast?” 

Before I could open my mouth to say anything, she was already telling her friends to make room for two more people, and a waiter came over with two extra chairs to place next to hers.

“Guys, I want you to meet my friends Elliot and Olivia,” she said effusively, then turned to us. “Please, have a seat and make yourselves at home. I’ll introduce everyone.”

By the time my ass touched the chair, the appropriate china and cutlery had already been placed in front of us. Alison was still standing as she pointed at each person around the table. 

“This is my boyfriend, Matt, this is his sister, Kelly, she’s also here for the first time. Next to her is Kyle and his girlfriend, Silvia, and over there is Greg, my brother, and his friend, Alvin.”

They all greeted us warmly, and I was surprised to be feeling a little less out of place than I’d imagined I would. 

For one thing, I’d been expecting an age gap that didn’t really exist; Alison was probably close to my age, and I remembered Andrea mentioning that her cousin was a bit older than her. It seemed to be the case also of her boyfriend, a tall, dark-haired man with green eyes, as well as Kyle and Silvia, who seemed the quietest among the group, even though they were cracking jokes with Matt. Kelly seemed a bit older, nearing her forties, and the same went for Greg Weller and Alvin Mills. 

There was plenty of food on the table: fruit, eggs, sausages, toast, several kinds of bread, cheeses, jams, and milk. The coffee was served by the waiters, who also kept coming over to replace the items before we ran completely out of any of them. Everything I ate was delicious, and I saw Elliot also eating eagerly. 

Alison started telling us about how she and her brother came every year, brought their boyfriends, girlfriends and other friends and stayed for at least a couple of weeks. She also mentioned with a hint of sadness how Andrea used to be part of the group, omitting that it had been before meeting her abusive boyfriend. 

Without dwelling any further on her cousin’s absence, though, Alison told us about how their group spent their vacations there, enjoying the activities in the resort as well as the quiet and the beauty of the place. As she spoke, the others interrupted her to add details about what they liked the most, the best places to eat, to shop and so on. They talked about it with such excitement that it started getting us excited too, even Elliot seemed more interested. I realized maybe doing some things with the group wouldn’t be so bad after all, and I guessed he felt the same way. 

Kelly, the woman Alison had introduced as her boyfriend’s sister and also a “first-timer”, also participated eagerly in the conversation, obviously trying to fit in with the group, but something instantly annoyed me about her – the way she kept trying to bring the attention to herself, maybe. Not that she needed to make much effort; she was very pretty, with long, blond hair and delicate features, big, green eyes. I noticed her looking at Elliot a few times and paid attention to see if he reciprocated, but if he did, I didn’t catch it. 

We stayed there for over an hour and a half. It was a good atmosphere, relaxed; the sunlight was illuminating the room too, and the slowness of everything made me feel like it was Sunday, even though it was Monday. 

The group had decided to go skiing the whole day today, pausing only for lunch, and they insisted we joined them. I was a bit unsure, as I’d never done it before, but Alison told me that there were instructors there and that most of the people who visited the resort had never skied before. 

She also told me that the resort provided all the gear and equipment necessary, so there was nothing to worry about on that front, and the way she talked made me feel like she really wanted us to be part of the group. It felt a little like high school, like being invited to the cool kids’ table, and I think I liked that a bit more than I’d care to admit. 

***

  
  
  


Our first stop was at the gear rental place, it was right by the resort’s exit to the mountain, we could actually see the embarking area for the cable car that would take everyone higher up the mountain. There, they hooked us up with everything we needed to go skiing: waterproof pants and jackets, boots, helmets, goggles, ankle, knee and elbow braces, and of course, the skis and poles. I felt like an astronaut in all that gear, and Elliot laughed at me as we were heading to the lifts.

“You’re walking like a penguin,” he accused me, and I protested, of course.

“Well, my arms and legs aren’t as big as yours,” I explained, but it only made him laugh more. 

As annoying as his teasing was, I still preferred that over the grumpiness I’d found outside of my room earlier that morning, so I wasn’t about to complain.

As the car went up the mountain and I stared down at all that white snow glowing under us, Alison – Allie, as she kept insisting, was telling us about how Northstar was one of the main stations for skiing in Tahoe, but I wasn’t listening because a spectacular view of the lake appeared down below as we moved higher. 

I impulsively swatted Elliot’s shoulder several times to get his attention, then wrapped my hand around his arm, squeezing him through all the layers of clothes. My grip was firm with excitement, and when I looked at him, he was looking at me, not the lake, with a small smile.

“Look!” I emphasized. 

He obeyed and nodded in agreement. “It’s really breath-taking.”

Still on our way up, Allie and Greg also gave us more details on the activities offered in the complex; it also included two skating rinks, one indoors and the one we had passed by on our way in the night before, as well as several other sports, even some I hadn’t even heard of, not to mention other winter attractions not related to sports. I’d lived through the coldest winters my whole life without knowing there was so much you could do in cold weather. 

But today all they wanted to do was skiing, and they were excited to see us give it a try. Elliot said he’d already been in one or two skiing situations with his kids, but none of the magnitude of Northstar. Also, his job there had been to watch his kids and make sure no one got hurt, not exactly really try to practice it. He seemed excited; I knew how much he liked to stay active, so anything physical sounded like something he would enjoy pursuing during our stay. 

As for me, I told them I’d never had any experience with any of those sports or activities, that they would have to be patient with me and show me the ropes, but they told me not to worry about it, and Greg even joked that the fact that I’d never tried didn’t mean anything; maybe I was an undiscovered talent. Kelly, the other newcomer, said she also didn’t have any experience, and she seemed to rely on Elliot a lot to feel safe skiing for the first time.

“I think you’re strong enough to catch both Olivia and me if we fall,” she said, joking (maybe flirting a little? I wasn’t sure, but I was almost sure). “I was scared before, but now that I know I’ll be practicing with you, I’m relieved.”

“Well, don’t count on it,” Elliot smiled, with some kind of smug modesty.

It made me think about how pathetic it was when women appealed to men’s strength and capability to keep them safe as a pick-up line – as well as when they fell for it. I also hated that she assumed I would be needing Elliot to save me, like she claimed she would; there weren’t many things that annoyed me more than a sexist woman. A part of me was gloating silently for having been right in my first assessment of her: the chances of me liking her were becoming more scarce by the minute.

“I can catch you just the same,” I joked back, trying to get my point across. “You know I’m a cop, right? I’m used to running after perps and tackling them.”

“Oh yeah,” Elliot confirmed with a smirk. “I think  _ she  _ will catch us both.”

I smiled, glad that he had sided with me and not her, then proceeded to feel stupid for competing with this woman I’d known for five minutes for the attention of my partner and friend of several years. This really  _ did  _ feel like high school.

Everyone’s skiing jackets were very colorful, each one had a complex combination of several colors, and the explanation was that they helped identify people better in a huge, white-covered mountain with way too many people covered in gear and racing down in blazing speeds. I didn’t dispute anything. My parka was mostly light blue, with details in neon orange and pink, and Elliot’s was mostly red, with details in black and purple. 

We were all also wearing wool hats under our helmets and waterproof gloves, and when we walked out of the cable car, I understood why it was all necessary. It was SO cold. This was a mountain, so it was very windy. Not very thick snow was falling and being taken up and down the mountain by the unrelenting winds, and the cold seemed to seep into the fabrics and the skin to reach you directly in your bones. 

The whole group moved to the beginners area, even though Kelly, Elliot and I insisted they didn’t have to; if they had more experience, they’d certainly be bored watching us continuously fall on our faces – but Greg made a point to tell me that was exactly what was most fun about skiing. 

Before we could even notice, Allie had arranged for a group lesson for all of us; it was clear that she and Greg and some of the others knew the instructor well, a man who introduced himself as Marcus. He obviously focused on those of us with the least experience, but everyone stayed together. He explained a few things to us and then taught us how to attach the skis to our boots. Everyone put their skis on, but he asked the beginners, which were me, Elliot and Kelly, to put only one ski on first, so that he could help us get used to the feeling of sliding. 

It was a very nice sensation, sliding, and it wasn’t very dangerous, because the beginner’s area wasn’t very steep. When Marcus was satisfied with our sliding abilities, he told us to put the other skis on and taught us a few basic maneuvers, including turning, for which it’s important to learn how to balance; he taught us that when you turn to one side, you need to throw your weight to the opposite leg to keep your balance. He also taught us how to fall – you should avoid falling backwards or forwards, preferably falling on your side and, once you’ve fallen, you must try and ground yourself so you don’t keep sliding down the slope. 

That lesson was very useful since, contrary to Greg’s previous belief, I was no hidden talent. I fell a LOT, which made me understand the importance of wearing waterproof clothes from head to toe. Elliot and Greg took turns helping me up. The curious thing was that, every time I fell, Kelly fell, too. I wondered if I was being paranoid or if someone could be childish enough to try and get attention like  _ that _ . Either way, I chose to ignore it and just have fun.

When we were moving more or less independently, albeit a bit slowly still, Greg and Allie thanked Marcus and said they’d help us from then on, and we had a lot of fun. Everyone was laughing a lot, especially at me and Kelly, as we really seemed to be the worst skiers in the group. Elliot wasn’t bad at all, and I suspected he had more experience than he was revealing, but he actually seemed more focused on hovering around the both of us, ready to catch us if we fell; he couldn’t resist two damsels in distress, not even in the middle of a snowy mountain.

After staying with us for about an hour, the more experienced skiers decided to move to the intermediate and advanced areas so they could practice more freely, and we set a time and place for all of us to meet for lunch – they said there was a restaurant a bit higher up the mountain, past the beginner’s section. 

Greg was the only one to stay behind with Elliot, Kelly and me, claiming he was having too much fun and he could always ski with his sister some other time. When it was just the four of us, he actually seemed to take it upon himself to teach me; he said he was going to make me a skier in record time, joking of course. He was a really funny and nice guy (and definitely good looking, with light brown hair and hazel eyes), and I suspected there was some flirting involved, but I didn’t want to assume anything (I wasn’t even truly interested). We were just having fun, and I decided to take it for what it was. 

After a while, Kelly claimed her leg hurt, and asked Elliot to take her to a sitting area nearby. He exchanged a weird look with me. 

“You all right staying here by yourself?” he asked me, eyeing Greg in a weird way. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” Greg rushed to say, and Elliot clearly forced a smile in return. 

“I’ll sit soon, too,” I sort of promised, even though I was having fun and didn’t really want to. 

Apparently, being all alone with Greg helped me make some progress. He spent the next forty minutes or so trying to help me slide down small sections of the mountain on my own, especially by teaching me how to brake and stop (if that’s even what they call it, I forgot the terms). Elliot and Kelly weren’t far away, and they were watching us as they talked. From their body language, I concluded she was telling him her whole life while he politely listened and smiled. 

After several tries, I was finally able to go down a whole stretch on my own, with Greg waiting for me a few yards down in case I fell and lost control. But I didn’t. When I got there and stopped on my own and everything, he gave me a big hug. 

“You did it!” 

I hadn’t felt like that since… I don’t know, I don’t think I’d ever felt like that. As a kid, I’d never really gotten a chance to do stuff like that, I never really did things just for the fun of it. I faintly remembered that conversation with Casey and worrying about whether I should come or not – just for this feeling, I was already beyond grateful I’d decided to come. 

I removed my skis so I could run up the slope and charged towards where Elliot was. “Did you see that?” I squealed, and he smiled. 

“I did!” he said, standing up just in time to catch me as I threw my arms around his neck. 

“I did it!” I shouted, squeezing him, and it hit me really hard in that moment that a big part of my joy was that he was there with me. 

It seems I was right – you really do need to have someone to share moments like those with. 

I pulled away to find him looking at me with the biggest smile, one I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen. It was a mixture of longing with happiness, pride, wistfulness… I really wished I could know what he was thinking as he looked at me like that. 

It was a bit of a magic moment, pocketed in that small piece of existence, that was so unlike us and our daily lives, an innocent moment of joy with no victims, blood or tears. For a second, as we looked at each other like that, smiling, there was nobody else, and no mountain, and no snow, just us, staring at each other like that. 

“Come on, Olivia! Let’s go again!” Greg said, bursting our little bubble. 

“Don’t you wanna come along?” I said to Elliot, reluctantly disentangling myself from him. I realized I had ignored Kelly completely as she sat there, so I extended the invitation. “Both of you?”

“Thanks, but I’m fine here watching,” she refused. “I’m not sure this is for me. By the way, thanks for keeping me company, Elliot.”

That’s where she was supposed to say  _ but you can go have fun _ , but instead she let her statement sound more like a request for him to stay, and I was a bit hurt that he  _ did  _ stay, so I turned around, took the hand Greg was offering me, and let him help me put my skis back on and take me away. 

He had me try going down a few more times, and after about two or three good runs, the next one I fell on my face pretty hard – so much so that I think I sort of lost consciousness for a second, because the next moment Elliot was next to me. 

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked, helping me up. 

“Yeah, I am, it was just a weird fall, but nothing hurts.”

“You hit your head,” Elliot rasped, directing a look past me, maybe at Greg? “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy, but I’m fine.”

Elliot removed my skis before I could object and surrounded me with his arm to take me with him, while I was still a bit disoriented. He sat me down on the bench he’d been sitting on with Kelly. 

“Stay here a minute until the dizziness goes away. Then I’ll take you somewhere to get your head checked. Is there an infirmary or something I can take her to?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Greg, who was approaching.

“Sure, there’s one just down past the kids’ section,” he replied softly, a bit of a worried expression on his face, too.

“I’m fine, no need to go anywhere,” I insisted. 

“Elliot is right,” Greg insisted. “It can’t hurt to have the nurse look at you, check your head for any injuries. If there’s any cause for concern, I’ll drive you to the nearest hospital myself. I’m so sorry, I guess I pushed you a little too hard.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, but Elliot eyed me harshly, like he didn’t agree. At least he didn’t say anything. 

As I’d suspected, the nurse didn’t find any injuries upon examining me. Elliot wasn’t quite sure about that and kept insisting to take me to a hospital anyway, with Greg’s support. However, after a while I was able to convince them I was okay, especially after I showed them I was perfectly capable of standing and walking on my own. 

“I’m fine, it’s my skiing that’s the problem,” I joked, making Greg crack up, but Elliot not so much. “I’m actually getting really hungry, should we just go to the restaurant and wait for everyone?”

That seemed to distract them. Also, Kelly joined us then, apparently we’d left her behind in our hurry to get to the infirmary (I bitterly made a note of how I hadn’t even noticed her absence until she showed up again). Greg asked her to lead us to the restaurant while he was going to inform the rest of the guys we were ready for lunch, as it was maybe a half hour earlier than the time we had originally set. 

“It’s a great place, they have delicious burgers,” Kelly said. 

Although her tone was nice and friendly, I had the very annoying impression that whenever she talked, she was addressing Elliot only, not the both of us. She could be interested in him, that wasn’t a crime, but she could be a bit more polite about it. I was right there after all, she couldn’t just pretend I was invisible. 

Several times during lunch, Elliot asked me if I was really doing okay, which I was. We all ate burgers, and indeed, they were great. The group talked animatedly about everyone’s mountain adventures. Greg told his sister specifically about my progress, and she said she was glad we were having fun. I said that Greg was a good teacher, and he blushed slightly. 

“You should give him a chance, Kelly,” I suggested. “Maybe your talent is still hidden and it just needs some work.”

Greg laughed. “If you say no now, I’ll be offended,” he joked, giving Kelly no alternative but to agree to get a few private lessons. 

After lunch, everyone was anxious to go back to the slopes; they just got their gear outside of the restaurant and went back up the mountain (or down, in Greg and Kelly’s case). 

I purposefully stayed behind, and Elliot took the hint, waiting for me. Still, I was surprised when he asked, no hesitation. “You don’t like Kelly very much, do ya?”

I faked a smile that I knew he would see through. “Why do you say that?”

“When she’s talking… your face,” he was actually laughing now. “It’s like your eyes are gonna roll all the way to the back of your head. It’s really funny.”

I smiled. “I’ll try to take it down a notch. Do you like her? Because she certainly likes you.”

He looked away. “What? No, it’s nothing like that. Not like Greg likes  _ you  _ anyway.”

“Nonsense,” I countered. “He was just having fun laughing at me.”

“Way too much fun,” Elliot muttered under his breath. 

I slowed my pace down. “What does that mean?” 

He furrowed his brow. “It means he was reckless. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

I was thinking it, I was thinking it ever since he had left to go sit with Kelly, but I didn’t  _ want  _ to say it. I wasn’t going to say it. Really. But I said it. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so busy talking to Kelly…”

Now he stopped walking all of a sudden. “I didn’t know you wanted me there, I thought you might be…”

I turned my body to face his, quite annoyed now. “What, flirting with Greg? I’m not Kelly.”

Elliot had to laugh; his laughter triggered a smile from me. “See?” he pointed at me. “That’s the face you make.”

“Elliot, let me tell you something,” I started, in a surge of courage. “From now on, you can assume I want you there, okay? I always want you there.” 

We were both very serious for a moment, staring at each other. I wish I could have sustained that look, just have looked intently into his eyes for a bit longer. But instead, I made a joke to lighten up the mood and get me off the hook I’d just put myself. I rolled my eyes as I spoke again. “Even if it means  _ Kelly  _ has to come along.”

He smiled and stared at me for another moment. Then, he held out his hand. 

“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “From now on… We stay together.”

I couldn’t stop my breath from hitching, but I guess that, at this point, I wasn’t exactly trying so hard to hide it anymore. 

I took his hand. “We stay together.”

  
  



	5. Friendship

CHAPTER 5 - FRIENDSHIP

I was sure my dreams were going to include snow, lots of snow that night. And laughter. And Elliot. His smile, teeth white like snow, eyes blue like the sky. He simply shone in different colors there. Everything did.

My suggestion ended up working like a charm, so Greg was focused on teaching Kelly during the afternoon, getting her off Elliot’s back and allowing for us to start complying with our vow of sticking together right after lunch. We skied together, and it was a lot of fun. I had never, not in a million years, imagined I would ever be in a situation like this, especially not with him. 

We were mostly laughing at each other (actually I was the one who did most of the falling while he did most of the laughing), and that soon became more important than the actual skiing. I forgot there were other people around us as I blissfully allowed myself to get lost amidst the banter; he really seemed to enjoy making fun of me, and I just couldn’t seem to get annoyed. 

The only thing that got us away from the slopes toward the end of that afternoon was sheer exhaustion. We decided to go to a sitting area further down, which overlooked that stunning view I’d fallen in love with when we were first riding the cable car in the morning. 

I gazed down at the lake for a while, then turned to Elliot to see that he wasn’t admiring the view: I could see clearly that he was watching a man, about his age and build, cautiously sliding through the whiteness with two girls in bright pink skiing gear. The oldest must be around twelve, the other one was probably nine or ten years old, and they kept tugging at the man and calling him, competing for his attention. _ Daddy, look _ , they would shriek nonstop. They reminded me of Kelly and I had to suppress a laugh, because my focus right now was on Elliot’s contemplative expression.

“You miss them, don’t you?” I asked softly. “It must be hard being in such an amazing place like this without them.”

To my surprise, Elliot smiled, then bowed his head, shaking it slightly. “I was actually just thinking the opposite.”

I cocked my head, eyebrows knit, still watching him closely. “How come?”

Elliot shrugged, turning around to look at the view for a long moment, leaning on the railing. Eventually, he turned his head in my direction. “Of course I miss them,” he mused. “And I’d love to bring them here someday… But I was just watching that guy and thinking… All my free time, I was always so focused on being a dad and a husband. I never really knew what it felt like to be anything else. It was either that or being a cop. And here… I’m neither of those things. It’s like a different reality.”

My head nodded as though of its own accord as I bit my lip and noted my astonishment at his words. If I’d had to guess, I would never have imagined he was entertaining any thoughts of the sort in his head. It made me wonder just how much more there was in there that I didn’t know and would never be able to find out anything about. 

“What?” he asked; I must have stared at him too long with that shocked expression.

“I was just wondering… What are you, then? Here?”

He pursed his lips. “Just… me?” He watched me silently for a moment, maybe assessing my reaction, then chuckled. “Now, figuring out what  _ that  _ means is a different story.”

His hands still gripped firmly at the railing as he turned to look at the lake down below behind the tree line once again, and after watching him for a few more seconds, so did I. It was amazing, like watching a postcard happening in front of your eyes. The unbelievable shades of blue from the sky and the water and white from the cotton-looking clouds and the snow that covered the other surrounding mountains had you trying to decide which one was more beautiful, but I guess the contrast was what really made it all so special.

“We gotta get down there,” I thought out loud. When I looked at Elliot, he gave me a relaxed smile. “Will you take me there? Whoever you are?”

He laughed. “Okay, I’ll take you.”

When we all met again to take the lift down the mountain, the sun was rehearsing its exit, replacing the blues with a spectrum of different colors across the sky, gladly mirrored on the surface of the water. Everyone was tired and some people started talking about being hungry. 

“So, how did you guys like skiing?” asked Alvin, Greg’s friend who had been skiing further up the mountain with Allie, Matt, Kyle and Silvia. He looked between me, Elliot and Kelly. 

“I just loved it,” I said, truthfully. “I wasn’t expecting to enjoy myself as much as I did.”

“And we had a great teacher,” Kelly said, touching Greg’s arm, and I wondered if she had her sights on  _ him  _ now or if she was just flirty with any and all men that appeared in front of her. 

Just having her around made me want to touch Elliot, show her he was my territory. Just how much he was or wasn’t was none of her business, but she was making me possessive, and I wanted to claim whatever rights to him I had. That instinct made me sit just a bit closer to him, touching his thigh with mine, and rest my hand on his arm; I saw his head move to register my touch, but he otherwise didn’t react.

“I just figured you guys had potential,” Greg joked back at Kelly, but exchanged a smile with me. 

Coincidence or not, Elliot’s other hand came down to rest on top of mine on his forearm then. Possessive instincts?

“So how about we go down to the village?” Allie suggested, apparently unaware of any body language being spoken around her. “Olivia, Elliot, you gotta come with us, it’s s’mores night.”

Elliot and I exchanged a look and shrugged at the same time. 

“Sure, why not,” he said, smiling. 

While we were returning our skiing equipment, Allie mentioned we should probably put on warmer clothes to go down to the village, reporting that the temperatures dropped significantly after sunset. Therefore, we all got back into the main lodging building to go to our rooms. 

In addition to changing, Allie and some of the others had brought their own equipment and needed to put them away, so we decided we’d all meet at the lobby ten minutes later. Elliot walked with me on the seventeenth floor, revealing halfway through the corridor that he wasn’t going to change.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?” I inquired as we reached my room, before noticing the sign I had left on the door. “Oh, shoot, I forgot the don’t disturb sign.”

“Hope not,” was all he said, putting his hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall watching me swipe the keycard. “I’ll wait here.”

“Why?” It came out spontaneously, maybe an octave higher. I tried not to sound so eager as I tried to fix it. “I mean, you don’t have to. You can come in.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, easily swayed, walking in behind me. 

I regretted it when I saw the mess, my clothes from the night before still forming a trail to the bathroom. Elliot stopped in front of them, hands tucked into his pockets, shamelessly looking and smiling in mockery. I quickly leaned down and retrieved my clothes, prioritizing my panties and bra. 

“Guess I should’ve let you wait outside,” I said, feeling it as my cheeks blushed. 

“Sounds like you were in a hurry to get rid of your clothes last night,” he smirked, unfazed. 

I wasn’t sure about what the innuendo in his voice meant, but he was really intent on teasing me in any way he could that day. Instead of bothering me, it was giving me butterflies, and I was scared to dig deeper and try to understand why. “I was in a hurry to go to sleep, as you might remember.”

He didn’t reply or remove the smile from his features as I opened the closet and chose a warmer sweater. Since I was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath, I didn’t hesitate to change in front of him – a scenario that had happened a hundred times in the precinct locker room, by the way. 

“So how do you like everyone, spending time with them?” I asked, as we’d fallen into a bit of a weird silence. 

“They’re all right,” he said. “I didn’t think I was gonna like them at all.”

“I know, me neither. But they know everything around here. Makes it easier for us.”

I rolled a woolen green scarf around my neck before putting on my heaviest coat, glancing at Elliot when I was about done. I realized that he had nothing covering his throat and that he was just wearing his overcoat on top of his sweater, which wasn’t even a very thick one. 

“Didn’t you bring a scarf?” I asked. 

He didn’t look worried. “No, but it’s fine. I can buy one down at the village.”

“And walk all the way down there with your neck uncovered? Not a good idea.”

I grabbed a dark blue scarf I’d also brought with me and walked over to him. “Here.” I threw it around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to adjust it. He was immobile, and I thought I heard him take in a sharp breath when I opened the first button of his coat to tuck in both ends of the scarf, closing it again afterwards. “All set,” I said with a soft tap on his shoulder. I felt electricity in the air, and I wondered if it really was there or if I was imagining it. 

Before going down to the lobby, we both went to the restroom, then, minutes later, we were all talking enthusiastically as we walked together to the village, which was what they called the space near the skating rink with all the stores and restaurants. As we passed by those places, Allie, Greg and the others who knew the resort well told us about them: which stores had the best deals, which restaurants had the best food, what to order at each. 

It was almost completely dark when we arrived at the front area of the complex, which was packed with people from all ages skating on the rink, walking around it, sitting by the bonfires or inside the bars and restaurants. We stopped by the side of the rink that was lined with tables and chairs near medium-sized bonfires, near a tent where you could stand in line to get supplies for said s’more night. 

The line wasn’t long yet, but Allie and Greg didn’t even look at it and went straight to the vendor, who they knew, of course. Elliot and I exchanged a look as we stood in line, but moments later, they came back bringing supplies for everyone, so we followed them and sat down on the semi-circle benches around the bonfire as Allie started handing out sticks with marshmallows. 

I observed the others a little bit before following and holding out my stick towards the fire. “When do I know it’s ready?” I muttered to Elliot.

“You’ve never done this before?” he asked. “You’ve never gone camping?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never done any of these kinds of things. My mom wasn’t very… outdoorsy. We didn’t take many vacations.”

I saw the sadness that darkened his eyes for a moment and immediately regretted my comment; I didn’t want to spoil the mood or anything, I was just answering his question honestly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking intently into my eyes. Then, he turned to look at his stick, bringing it closer to us and blowing out a flame from it like a birthday candle. “Here, this one’s ready.”

He gave it to me in exchange for mine, which I thought was such a cute gesture. I thanked him, but he only smiled when he saw me biting off a piece of the marshmallow – he actually laughed when I burnt my tongue with a big bite. 

“You didn’t tell me it was so hot,” I whined, feigning offense, which seemed to amuse him even further.

“It was  _ on fire  _ just now,” he countered, earning an eye roll from me.

Conversation flowed around the bonfire, and we learned a little more about everyone’s lives. Basically, all of them came from rich families and were one way or another involved in their respective families’ businesses – that was as close as they got to having “jobs”. In short, this life we were getting a glimpse of was their usual: traveling, shopping, dinners, skiing, hanging out with rich friends. 

There was a part of the evening in which they started asking us about what it was like to work as police officers. It felt a little like speaking in front of an Elementary School classroom on Career Day; not too differently from school kids, these people had never been exposed to some aspects of the real world that Elliot and I were used to dealing with every day. I tried really hard not to judge them for it. 

After that, the topic went back to suggestions of things we could do, both alone and with the group. They told us we definitely should try one of the gondola rides and snowshoeing, which was a kind of hiking activity in the snow, obviously. They also told us they liked to go snow tubing just for the fun of it, and said we could all go together. 

Also, the men were arranging a hockey game that got Elliot all interested – there was a traditional match between staff from the Weller resort and a neighboring hotel every year, and Greg was in the team whenever he was in town. He said he could definitely get Elliot and the other guys on the team if they wanted, and Elliot looked at me like a little boy asking his mother for permission. Allie told us the matches were always heated, and we could go watch and be the Weller team’s cheerleaders. 

“Seriously, with outfits and everything?” Greg joked, eyeing me curiously; maybe he could tell it would not suit me in the slightest. 

“That’s something I have never in my life worn,” I defended myself, figuring I’d make it clear beyond a doubt, scoffing with incredulity at the ridiculous suggestion. 

I was actually about to say I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a cheerleader uniform, but apparently there was a former cheerleader in the group.

I’ll give you one guess.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” Kelly  _ cheered  _ – pun intended. “Allie, can we get outfits? Please! I miss my cheerleading days. I actually went to college on a cheerleader scholarship.”

Why did that not surprise me? Trying not to judge was quite an exercise that night… 

As time passed, the night turned colder, and I turned quieter. I stood up to get my hands closer to the fire when Elliot was engrossed in hockey conversation. A moment later, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“You cold?” I heard him ask. 

Before I could answer, he surrounded my shoulders with his left arm, and as I leaned into him, his other arm surrounded my waist. He had never held me like that, but I guess this place really was magical. Maybe it was the altitude, or the fact that nothing in there was like anything back home, not even the color of the snow. Maybe, in these coordinates, Elliot hugged me without hesitation to keep me warm. Maybe, in this place, I let him. 

“Thank you,” I said under my breath, my arms folded against his chest, my head slowly falling into his shoulder. 

I could get used to that. I really could. I closed my eyes for a second, just hearing the fire cracking, wrapped in Elliot’s warmth. I pretended for a second that I could have that. Maybe one of the reasons I never allowed myself to do that back at home was exactly this: I could very easily get used to this, so much so that I might not be willing to let go afterwards. 

That suddenly hit me. It would be easy to get used to it, but it would be extremely hard to get used to our old, more distant routine all over again. There was a reason I never allowed myself to really let my thoughts and feelings go in that direction. There was a very good reason. And so, I abruptly pulled away from him and addressed the people around us. 

“The s’mores are completely gone, and I’m starting to get really hungry. Anyone else?”

The whole group agreed, and Greg gleefully told us about a bar on the other side of the rink that had the best snacks and really great beer. I could feel Elliot’s eyes boring holes on me, watching me with curiosity as we all walked together, but I guessed he wasn’t going to work up the courage or whatever to ask me what that had been all about. I was right. 

Greg was right, too, about the bar: it really was great. It was more like a pub, and the best thing about it for me when we first walked in was how warm it was in there. The lights were pretty dim, but I could see the ragged, yet tasteful decor, the dark cinder walls, the big, square bar with stools all around and the simple wooden chairs and tables filling the rest of the space. At the bar, you could see that there were about a dozen different beer taps. 

Greg had us all sit around a corner table while he was going to order the best stout beers on tap and several of their best snacks for everyone. Not surprisingly, he shared a big hug with the bartender behind the bar. 

“You guys really do know everyone around here, don’t you?” I said to Allie, who was sitting next to me. 

“This is like our second home,” she explained. “I have closer friends here than the friends I made in school or in college,” she commented matter-of-factly.

Elliot had gone to the restroom as soon as we’d entered the bar, so I was looking at that overall direction. “It makes sense,” I agreed distractedly. 

“What about your and Elliot’s… friendship?” she asked, some insinuation in her tone, albeit respectful.

“That’s all it is,” I quickly confirmed. “A friendship. A very close one. Our job requires us to trust each other with our lives… that’s gotta bring two people close.”

“I’m sure it does,” she smiled, but continued to stare at me. 

“What?” I laughed. “Nothing ever happened.”

Allie laughed too. “I believe you! I’ll tell you all about Matt and I sometime, okay?”

“Okay…” I arched my eyebrow curiously, then saw her stare ahead and followed her glance. 

Matt and Elliot were actually both coming back from the restroom then, talking about something that made them walk slowly and gesture a lot. Elliot had removed his overcoat and scarf, so I took a moment to observe how his sweater fit perfectly around his expansive shoulders and emphasized the muscles on his chest, the way the collar outlined his wide neck, and the veins on his bare forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. 

Kelly was now sitting far from me, but I found myself feeling possessive again, wanting to touch him again: so much for my alibi. When I turned to Allie again and saw the way she was looking at Matt, I reluctantly recognized myself in it. 

“Let’s just say I look at you two and think of how we started,” she wistfully confirmed the reciprocity of her thoughts, then turned to Matt again with the biggest smile as they approached the table and sat in front of us. 

“So, what’s up, ladies?” Matt asked.

I threw Elliot a quick, smiling glance, but he was looking at me with such a serious expression that I felt my whole face heat up instantaneously as a shudder went down my spine. Luckily, Allie talked, providing me with a safe place to look at.

“Greg is ordering food and drinks for us,” she informed, and as soon as she finished talking, two waiters started bringing the beers. 

“This is the best beer I’ve ever tried,” Greg was saying as he arrived. “Hope you guys like it. What should we toast to?”

Allie looked at Matt, then Elliot, then me, and stood up, raising her glass. “To friendship. Let’s toast to friendship.”

***


	6. Everything

CHAPTER 6 - EVERYTHING

  
  


I was never the biggest frequenter of bars, but whenever I did go to one, I always observed people’s movements throughout the night. The only thing I knew for certain from my empirical observation was that nobody stayed in the same place too long, especially when they weren’t restricted to a table with chairs. As conversations flowed, it seemed to move people along in small increments at a time. 

In our case, as soon as the food was gone, several people vacated their seats and started moving around with drinks as their only possessions; the only ones who continued sitting were Kelly and Greg, who were parked at the corner of the table as she told him quite the story (maybe the same one she was telling Elliot before lunch while I was skiing?), as well as Allie, Silvia and I; we were talking and getting to know one another better. 

The music was loud, and the sound of people trying to talk over it only made it all that much noisier. Elliot was soon one of the people standing up, near the bar, with easy access to the beer, talking in a little group with Alvin, Matt and Kyle. I watched people’s movement with some emphasis on  _ his _ movement as the girls were telling me about how they’d met at the resort when they all were just kids, including Andrea. 

At this point, I already felt a bit high from the alcohol, especially because I’d started drinking before the food arrived (actually, everyone did). At the time, I wondered if it was that fondness drinking creates, but I actually found Silvia to be a very nice person. She told me she used to be a serious ice skater, competing nationally and everything, and that she had even gotten close to making the cut to the Olympics one time. Then, the following year she had suffered an injury that had unfortunately ended competitions for her. Now, she only skated recreationally. 

Silvia did make me promise we would go skating together during the week, and I hoped it wasn’t a drunken invitation. I was excited for everything; I was thoroughly enjoying this break from my reality, so the furthest I could go from it, the better. Skiing, skating, hiking, whatever it was, I wanted it. I’d never even ice skated in Central Park, let alone with a former professional skater, but I wanted to skate this week. I wanted everything. 

That was a curious feeling, this thing of wanting everything. It made me feel alive. I turned to look at Elliot, and for some reason, he was watching me. He didn’t avert his eyes as he took his beer bottle to his mouth and drank from it – which for some reason sent chills down my spine. I chickened out and looked away first, the thumping in my chest not letting me pretend my mind wasn’t going places. 

It happened many times that night, this thing of catching him staring at me, those vast pools of blue, lake-blue, sky-blue: I didn’t need to choose which was the most beautiful shade. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the alcohol was just the excuse to admit it, but like I said, I wanted everything: I wanted him, too. In that moment, I knew it clear as day. The next day I could go back to pretending I didn’t. 

A while later, Greg and Kelly joined the previously exclusively male group that was standing, so it was now made up of all the guys plus Kelly. I could tell she liked being surrounded by men, and I hated how much attention I was giving this girl. I wondered if I also hated how much attention  _ they  _ were giving her, which would annoy me even more as female competition or whatever you want to call it is one of the things I despise the most. 

But I knew it wasn’t any sort of competition, at least not any kind that didn’t involve Elliot. I couldn’t care less what the other men thought of her or not, it was his opinion that mattered. I found myself wondering if he found her pretty. She had blond hair, like his wife, maybe she was his type – the fair hair and the wide eyes, acting all defenseless around him. The possibility that she might be his type made me hate her. 

It was the alcohol that made me ask, I swear. “So, what about Kelly… You guys known her long?”

“I just met her this week,” Silvia’s reply sounded like a disclaimer, like it could get her off the hook, unburden her of the obligation of stating an opinion. 

Either way, I was more anxious for Allie’s reply – she was dating Kelly’s brother after all. I noticed her hesitation. Maybe I was a little drunk, but I  _ was  _ an interrogator… The waiter came over then, bringing us brand new bottles of beer and giving Allie a small window to prepare her answer. She didn’t use it very well. 

“Actually, I’ve known her for years,” she said vaguely.” I’ve mostly known  _ of  _ her, and actually only met her about a year ago.”

“And…?” I insisted. The alcohol… 

She looked between Silvia and me. “I don’t wanna sound… I mean… I’m  _ trying  _ really hard...”

“To like her?” I asked, and Silvia burst out laughing. I let out a relieved sigh. “I was feeling bad for my harsh judgment after just one day...”

Allie shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just… the way she needs to be the center of attention when there are any men around.”

“Yes!” Silvia agreed, the higher pitch in her voice conveying just how much. “I thought I was being paranoid, but I swear I thought she was flirting with Kyle the other day at lunch.”

Allie shook her head. “I think that’s just how she behaves around all men… except for her brother, thank God.”

The three of us shared a loud laugh then, and I covered my mouth; I was feeling like one of those mean girls at school gossiping about a girl I didn’t like with my friends, an experience I’d never had, by the way. To top it all off, I glanced at Elliot and caught his eyes on me again; was the quarterback just about to invite me to prom? That was the feeling. 

But then Kelly touched his arm, and he turned to look at her. The cheerleader… It was all so fitting. I felt my face burn with rage.

“Look, she’s after yours now,” Silvia tugged at my arm. 

I sighed. “Well, he’s… not mine.” 

I looked between the two women and they were watching me curiously, clearly waiting for me to give them more information. I didn’t want to talk about it. But then… I kind of did. I liked that Silvia had referred to him as being mine, and I wanted to hold on to it for a bit longer. That knowledge of his eyes on me every now and then, the girls suggesting we were something: I liked everything about it, way more than I should.

“Actually, he’s married,” I warned. Them or myself? “Recently separated, actually. But it’s... complicated.” 

Allie nodded knowingly, then looked away. 

“I hate complicated,” Silvia said, directing her gaze at him, making me almost ask her not to do that, afraid he would figure out we were talking about him – but then, I kind of wanted him to know.

“But you like him?” Allie demanded. 

Before the alcohol, I had tried to deny; maybe she did understand me better than I realized. I just smiled. “Like I said… complicated.”

“Ouch,” Silvia interjected with a sympathetic hand on my wrist.

The three of us drank at the same time, as though we’d been choreographed, certainly each traveling to their own particular brand of complicated. Allie seemed to be gathering up the courage to reveal hers to me. 

“Matt was engaged when we met,” she eventually started. “Actually, we met here.”

“Really?” I smiled. What  _ was it  _ about this place? There must be something in the water. Or in the snow.

“I was there,” Silvia testified.

“We met at the top of the mountain, skiing,” Allie laughed to herself at the memory. “We just clicked, you know? In a few days, it was like we had become best friends. We had so much in common.”

“And what about his fiancée?” I asked with some hesitation.

“She didn’t like skiing, so she would spend the day shopping while we were on the mountain. They only met at night.”

“She didn’t like anything that he liked,” Silvia added. “I honestly have no idea why they were together.”

I tried not to look like all of that wasn’t hitting a little too close to home. I looked at Elliot, watching it as Kelly kept trying to get his attention away from the rest of the group. When I detected the movement of his face and his eyes in my direction, I turned away, only to curse myself a second later. I was blaming everything on the alcohol that night, just exactly how much more would I have to drink to get the courage to keep my eyes on him while his were on me? This was  _ not  _ high school, for crying out loud. I had been braver back then, too.

It’s just that this was Elliot. There had never been an Elliot. Before him, I’d never even known what that feeling was like, the one that not only takes control away but also makes you forget about its very notion, the one that makes you weak in the knees and warm in your heart, that soothes and hurts and comforts and crushes you into a million pieces. 

But we weren’t talking about me. Not that specific second, anyway.

“And did you get together then?” I asked, trying to cover my annoyance at my lack of courage and the fact that Kelly’s hand on Elliot’s arm wouldn’t stop itching in the corner of my eye, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

“Not that year,” Allie replied, a hand distractedly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she made a quick pause in her testimony for a sip of her drink. “We exchanged numbers, but we went our separate ways and he continued with his fiancée. He would text me every day, though. And then the next year, I told him I was coming here and he came too… this time, he was single.”

Silvia swooned. “And the rest is history.”

“Maybe you should take this chance to uncomplicate things,” Allie suggested. “This place has a way of bringing people together.”

“Yeah, just make sure the person this place is bringing closer to him is you, not her,” Silvia pointed out with a nod in Elliot’s direction.

Kelly was all over him now, and while from where I stood it hadn’t looked like he was encouraging her, he had now turned away from the group to talk to her exclusively. It was so loud in there that they were speaking into each other’s ears and I  _ hated  _ the proximity it granted her, as well as the fact that it didn’t allow me to even try reading their lips to find out what they were saying.

“You think I should do something?” I asked, already standing up, carrying Allie’s and Silvia’s eyes with me. I looked at them when I realized what I was about to do. “I had a lot of fun today, thanks for everything. We’ll talk later.”

Both of them smiled through astonished looks. Maybe they weren’t expecting me to leave… Well,  _ I _ wasn’t expecting me to leave. 

“Of course, Olivia!” Allie said. “We will.”

I waved goodbye and charged towards the group made up by the guys and Kelly, most specifically to their little, two-person cell. I was determined to end that charade and take him away from this bar.

“Hey,” I said, vehemently standing between Elliot and Kelly, forcing her to retreat a little. 

Elliot smiled at me, that intensity I had seen in his eyes those times I’d caught him staring, the blue so much more blindingly hypnotizing from up close. 

I figured I could blame it on the liquid courage, or simply claim it was my attempt to save him from Kelly’s advances, but I hooked one arm around his neck, at which he reacted with an arm firm around my waist. “Haven’t seen you all night,” I accused.

“I saw you just fine,” he countered, completely focused on me now while I felt Kelly’s gaze on us. “And I thought you saw me seeing you.”

My head started spinning; not only he acknowledged the staring, but he was dead to rights flirting with me. Was he blaming it on the alcohol, too? Would he later claim he was just playing along so Kelly would stop bothering him?

“Okay, haven’t  _ talked  _ to you all night,” I corrected myself, loosening my grip around him to test the waters, but he added his other arm around my waist as if to tell me not to, and I was reeling. He was  _ holding  _ me now.

“I was just gonna complain about that,” he defended himself. “I thought we were supposed to stay together, but you seemed to be having fun with the girls. What were you talking about?”

I smiled, and added my other arm around his neck, too. Two could play this game, whatever the rules were. It was exciting and scary. “Why, you think we were talking about you?”

“Were you?” his eyes pierced mine and I couldn’t defend myself standing that close to him. 

“Maybe,” I half-confessed, eliciting a big smile. 

Our faces were so close, and my eyes kept dropping to his lips like magnets to metal. It would be easy to just close the remaining distance and kiss him, and this knowledge sent my heart rate through the roof. I could kiss him, the possibility was literally standing right in front of me. And I wanted to. Oh, you don’t know how much I wanted to. I wanted everything, and right now, he was precisely everything I wanted. I wanted to kiss him, and everything else. 

But now? Was I supposed to do this now? In front of all those people? I was suddenly confused, thinking that, if the moment was right, I would know somehow – but what if this was what knowing felt like? What if this was the universe giving me my cue to make a move? But then again, if he wanted this, he could very well be the one to lean in and kiss  _ me _ . 

Yeah. He was just as close to me as I was to him, and if he wanted this… He could do something about it. The fact that he wasn’t doing anything threw me off, making me doubt if he would want me to. What if I started to approach and he stopped me?  _ What are you doing? _ I wasn’t certain this wasn’t all an act for Kelly’s benefit… Was I? 

I ended up hugging him to escape both his mouth  _ and  _ his eyes, both equally dangerous then, before I did something I could regret later. Ironically, I already regretted not having tried right then. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and felt his arms tighten around me, his fingers through my hair next, sending goosebumps across my skin. Not exactly the most platonic interaction. Was he encouraging me or not? My whole body tingled with doubt.

Twenty-four hours we had been there. What the hell was going on?  _ This place has a way of bringing people together. _

“I think I’m ready to call it a night,” I said, disentangling myself from his arms without any warning, that same fear of getting too attached hitting me again, like it had outside by the bonfire. 

“Okay,” he said, looking a bit alarmed as he drank up the contents of the bottle he was holding.

We said a general good night and left; before walking out, I threw one last look towards our table and saw Kelly watching us leave; I hoped she thought we were going back to one of our rooms to spend the night together. I asked myself next: was  _ I  _ hoping we were going back to one of our rooms to spend the night together? But there was no chance that was happening, right?

When we first stepped out of the bar, the freezing wind hit us mercilessly. We had just put our scarves and coats back on, but they didn’t seem like enough to fight the cold at all. Luckily, a shuttle was just passing by; Elliot signaled with his hand and it stopped near us. We hopped onto the minibus, and saw a couple sitting together, as well as a family of six, of which two were sleeping in each of their parents’ arms. We sat all the way in the back, and I felt my eyelids instantly heavy. 

Elliot and I were silent, and, coincidence or not, no part of our bodies touched in any way as we sat next to each other. We didn’t say a word on the way back, and I wouldn’t have known how to initiate a dialogue right then and there after what had just happened. Or  _ not  _ happened. 

The shuttle dropped everyone off at the main building’s entrance, and we walked straight to the elevators, a faint  _ good night _ directed at the front desk. We were confined to the small space of the elevator next, and it seemed like silence got way too loud. Deafeningly.

“This was a long day,” I said, hoping to clear the air, suddenly heavy. 

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, looking away from me, like I was the last thing in his mind, and I absolutely loathed the hot ’n’ cold routine. 

My mind was screaming to ask him what the hell was going on, what had that been all about back at the bar. But what if he said I was the one who had initiated it and wanted to ask  _ me _ what that had been all about? What was I supposed to say? Even if I said it was because of Kelly, how was I supposed to put it?  _ I did it because I could see she was flirting with you and I couldn’t take it for another second? _

And so, we said nothing else until the elevator’s ping spat us out into the seventeenth floor. After holding the door for me, Elliot came walking closely behind me, but still no word. Each silent step we took, the faster I moved, and the angrier I got. I wanted him to admit to something, but he never would, and I knew better than to push him. Right? 

By the time I reached my door, I was so sick and tired of all these feelings and his abrupt silence and inaction that I barely looked at him when I said good night, opened my room’s door and slid inside, closing it behind me with a loud thud.

I don’t know what it was. Maybe the alcohol had heightened it, but I’m sure something else had unleashed it. It figured, since I was playing with things long deemed better left alone – something was bound to come out of it and not necessarily anything I might be prepared to expect. 

I was furious. I was livid with him. It was crazy, this had been the longest day, and a very different one, and I think all of those new experiences and emotions brought together in that single instant made up a sour combination. The only familiar thing about any of this was Elliot, but then again, our interaction was now a far cry from anything even remotely familiar. I felt like the ground had been removed from beneath my feet, and I knew that enjoying the fall wouldn’t lessen the impact on the ground.

I couldn’t even tell exactly what I was furious about. All I know is that I was itching to get out of the room and go knock on his door, because I wanted to fight. I didn’t even know what the fight would be about, but I wanted it! I didn’t even know what I would say if I did go there. 

Maybe I was going to accuse him of being unaffected by all these subtle changes which, bundled together, were quite earth-shatteringly revolutionary and game-changing. I guess I would accuse him of being indifferent when it was doing all sorts of things to me, sending me to the craziest places, sending me to his door to yell. 

But really, how could this not be affecting him like it was affecting me? How could he just spend the whole night at a bar staring at me while chugging on his beer like it was nothing, like it was just some innocent flirting? This was  _ us _ . Or could it be that us wasn’t as important to him as it was to me? What if, given the fact that his wife was now asking for a divorce, he no longer cared about crossing any lines in our relationship? Could it be he didn’t have any worries whatsoever about how the slightest suggestion of flirting could affect our partnership? 

And then it occurred to me: what if he was now in his own room, thinking exactly the same thing? Well, for each time I had caught him staring at me, he had caught me just as red-handed. I had been the one to approach him physically, throwing my arm over his shoulder. What if he was furious with me right now, thinking the exact same things I was thinking, worrying that he might not matter as much to me as I mattered to him?

My head ached, and it wasn’t anything a painkiller might fix.

This girl, Kelly, too. I had only just met her that morning, and the way she looked at him had me wanting to punch her. Why? Because for the last thirty hours or so I had allowed myself a few liberties inside my own head about feelings related to Elliot? 

I was suddenly afraid of it. Afraid it was something I couldn’t control once it was unleashed. Afraid it would destroy me like I had always secretly feared. Afraid that it was already destroying me, that I had already been burned beyond recovery and all that was left was my shape as I sat now as pure ash, still untouched but ready to be swept up by the wind.

Even then, rage still burned inside me. The blue of his eyes, dark in the dim light of the bar, coating me, covering me, trapping me. I was still being held captive in them, I would continue to be even as they lay covered under his eyelids in his slumber.

But that little voice always came to throw more gasoline to the fire. It was nothing, it said. So, he was looking at you a few times. Big deal. If he was really interested in something more, he would be more obvious. That’s what men do. They’re not subtle; when they want something, they just go get it.

And Elliot wasn’t coming to get me. If anything, he was watching me from a distance. No urgency. No sign of the desperation that had me pacing around the room, unable to change out of my clothes because I still wasn’t convinced I wasn’t going to actually go after him and end this once and for all. If a couple glances had me feeling like this, what if anything else happened? 

I needed an answer. If the answer had to be the confirmation that it was all in my head, so be it. I was willing to take a no just to silence the question; it was the question that was killing me.

At least I would know. I hated being left in the dark. I wanted to know everything.

I was this close to charging towards his room and banging on the door, I could figure out what to say once that part had already been dealt with. I was this close. So close that I only realized I had actually done it when I felt my knuckles searing from what must have been a few quite violent knocks, and his door opened in slow motion, revealing his puzzled expression.

“What’s the matter, Liv?”


	7. Explaining

CHAPTER 7 - EXPLAINING

Worry appeared to be the most dominant color across his features, but there was also a shade of surprise, maybe apprehension. Definitely a hue of… Excitement?

“What’s the matter, Liv?” Elliot asked, but I didn’t say anything, and the silence was slightly awkward as this man who could usually read me like an open book just stared at me like I was written in a completely different language that night. Maybe I was. Then, it all went away, and recognition took over when he seemed to recall something. “Oh, I forgot.”

He disappeared into the room for a moment, and I had no idea what he was doing or what he expected me to do; was that an invitation to follow him in? My time for speculation was cut short though, because just as those questions started to bounce back and forth in my head, he materialized at the door again.

“Here, thank you,” he said, sounding a bit rushed and offering something that took me a couple of seconds of paralyzed silence to recognize as the dark blue scarf I had lent him earlier, that whole pathetic bar exchange ago. “I’ll buy one tomorrow.”

I stared at the wool in his hands, stupefied. What was it that I was supposed to do there again? My mind went blank. Oh, the anger. What was it I was supposed to be so angry about? The haze of the beer and the light in his eyes were too confusing.

“A-actually,” I babbled, a very embarrassed hand through my hair and a sheepish shrug. “I… I was gonna say you can keep it. I brought others, and you really shouldn’t walk around without one, especially at night.”

Elliot seemed surprised. Well, can you blame him? “Okay,” he eventually said with a smile, eyebrows knit in a sign that he wasn’t entirely sure he believed that was what I had really knocked on his door for. 

Well,  _ now  _ he seemed to be able to read me again. Maybe he could explain it to me, because I had no clue. I wished I knew what he was thinking, what his suspicions were, but it didn’t seem like he was about to share them; the fact that he wasn’t demanding any answers told me he knew a lot more about what I was doing there than he’d be willing to admit. That was it: that was what my anger was all about, his unwillingness to acknowledge any of it. 

Well, right in that moment, it was contagious, because I didn’t want to admit to anything anymore either; I had nothing else to offer, so I didn’t. It was pretty clear that the courage that my anger had boosted was completely gone, so there wasn’t much left to do but flee.

“Good night,” I said, rushing back to my room and feeling like the awkward, insecure teenager I had never been.

I woke up the next morning with no clear recollection of exactly how or when I’d gone to bed. Thinking about the previous night, I realized that my memories from the bar onwards were a bit obscure, which was certainly related to the considerable amount of beer I had consumed. I could recall what had happened, it was just the details that escaped me, and there was this aura of impossibility permeating everything, like those facts couldn’t be proven beyond reasonable doubt.

I knew that I’d returned to the hotel with Elliot, and that, after that little act at the bar, we hadn’t exchanged many words. I also knew that, for some reason, his silence had made me furious, so much so that I had gone after him, but I didn’t remember saying much more than just officially giving him my dark blue scarf. I was almost completely sure I hadn’t said much more than that.

Now, in the light of day, and sobriety, and wakefulness, I was able to gain some perspective over whatever had happened at the bar: it had been nothing more than an act. I had wanted to help him get rid of Kelly, and he had played along because, as I had suspected, he was, indeed, feeling annoyed. So our little act had made her back off, which had always been our only intention.

Okay, maybe we were a little flirty, like we had never been with each other. Yes, we were having far more physical contact than we were used to back at home, but it was only natural. Back in New York, we only saw each other at work, which is definitely not the place for physical contact or public displays of affection. Also, even though we were meeting new people, we only really knew each other there, so it was natural to turn to each other for a little human contact – people crave human contact. 

Maybe we were both just trying not to be so uptight around each other – or about anything at all. I remembered what he had told me the day before, about not having to worry about being a cop or a husband and father here, and being able to just be himself. Maybe he was just enjoying this whole new experience of not doing exclusively whatever was expected of him. We weren’t even partners here, there was no work to partner over. Here, we were just friends, close friends. We were just finding out how close close friends can be. 

So that’s all that was going on. I kicked myself for having read too much into Elliot’s actions the day before, thinking that there might be something else going on there. Of course there wasn’t. We were in a strange place, very far from home, but we had a date set to return home, and it would all be there waiting for us, including our work and our partnership, which I was sure he didn’t want to jeopardize any more than I did. 

So that was all, I kept repeating to myself. I just hoped that I really hadn’t said or done anything about that stupid fit of anger that had taken over me. I didn’t remember saying or doing anything, but then I didn’t remember showering either, and I clearly had, which I could tell from my clothes thrown all over the floor leading to the bathroom and the natural waves in my hair from not having blow-dried it. 

It was already nine when I got up, realizing I hadn’t made any plans with Elliot, or anyone else for that matter. Gathering from the noises my stomach was making, I noticed I was starving, and figured I’d get dressed to go downstairs for breakfast – maybe Elliot would be there too. 

At the restaurant, I didn’t see him or any members of Allie’s little clan. Maybe everybody was sleeping in, I had no idea how much longer they had all stayed at the bar the night before, or how much more they had drunk. A little anxious about not knowing where Elliot was, I focused on eating, even though I kept throwing slightly nervous glances towards the entrance in hopes to see him.

I was already standing with the intention of going up and knocking on his door when my cell phone buzzed once. I grinned, biting my lip as I flipped it open and faced his name, clicking to read the text message. 

_ Meet me out front in 5. Bring your coat. _

Rushing to the elevators, I felt my heart thrumming in my chest, wondering what he was up to that required me meeting him out front in five minutes. I considered texting back asking why or what for, but for some reason I decided I wanted to be surprised. Not that he would have prepared a surprise for me. Well, whatever it was he had planned, I didn’t know about it: isn’t that the definition of a surprise?

I just went up to grab my coat and my stuff (I had only brought the keycard with me downstairs to the restaurant) and came right back down, with only one minute to spare from the small window Elliot had given me. Still, not a whole minute had gone by when I saw a blue Ford SUV approaching and eventually pulling over. I leaned in to check who the driver was, and felt an involuntary smile forming on my lips when I saw Elliot, wearing sunglasses and a dark blue pullover and making my stomach flutter. 

He rolled down the passenger window. “Get in!”

“Where did you get a car?” I asked, entering the SUV. “And where’s  _ your  _ coat?”

He smiled. “There’s a car rental at walking distance from here. And the coat is in the backseat, you might wanna take yours off before you put your seatbelt on, this air conditioning is really good, and so is the seat warmer.”

“Okay, I figured where you got the car,” I rolled my eyes as I moved awkwardly to do as he’d said, my coat now traveling along with his and the scarf I’d given him in the backseat – I was glad to find that he hadn't made good on his promise to buy one for himself, I liked that he was satisfied wearing mine. “What I meant is why do we need one?”

He waited for the click of my seatbelt to put the car in gear and start making his way out of the complex, but he was smiling the whole time. “Didn’t you wanna go down to see the lake?”

***

It was an incredibly beautiful day, with such warm sunlight that it almost made up for the freezing wind. Elliot refused to give me any more information about where exactly we were going, and we bantered all the way there as I tried taking guesses from the little the car’s GPS map showed while he tried to deflect my questions. I also picked on him about the music, because apparently he had chosen a gospel rock radio without noticing. 

“It sounded like regular rock,” he laughed. “I just thought it was weird I didn’t recognize any of the songs.”

“Don’t you think it’s a hell of a coincidence that all of these bands had religious experiences to write about?” I teased.

“Did you choose to say  _ hell  _ on purpose?” he gave me a sideways glance over his dark lenses before shrugging. “I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what they were saying, that’s not exactly the point of music.”

“Well, if it weren’t the point, not even a little bit, then there would be no lyrics. Including lyrics in which the word  _ hell _ is allowed.”

He feigned annoyance, but I saw the stubborn corner of his mouth that would not go down. “Why don’t you just change the station already?”

I smiled innocently. “Why? It’s just rock. We just don’t know any of these bands, but why not use this opportunity to get to know them?”

I was teasing him, but we really weren’t paying attention to the music, because for most of the drive, we could see the lake, coming closer and closer as we went down the mountain, earning several wows from me and a few frustrated attempts to take pictures with Elliot’s camera (he really did know more about trips than me: he had remembered to bring one). 

We also talked a lot. Elliot told me a little about some road trips he used to take with Kathy and the kids, including to the Hudson Valley, where they were now spending their vacation. While he sounded a bit wistful at times, it sounded mostly like he was just sharing past experiences, there was no complaint in his tone. 

“You weren’t in charge of picking the music for those, were you?” I teased further, and he had to laugh, but I was mostly trying to brush off the fact that I didn’t have any experiences like those to offer in return. 

He eventually picked up on that. “So you never really did stuff like that with your mom, huh?”

When I spoke, I made an effort not to sound sad or regretful. To be honest, I had never really spent much time missing those things my mom hadn’t given me: it was there, with him, surrounded by that breath-taking view and the Saturday-morning-esque sound of the radio mixed with the engine and the wind as we sped by that I was feeling nostalgic, hit with the sensation of finding out what I had been missing out on. 

What I didn’t want to dwell much further on was assessing how much that feeling was related to road trips or to spending time with  _ him _ . My heart was warm and I was scared, already dreading the unrelenting, impending coldness that would inevitably follow.

But anyway, all of this was going through my head as I answered his question, again, trying not to break up the relaxed mood with my sad childhood. “Not really,” I said. “She was always busy with her job at the University, and to be honest, I got a little nervous about getting in a car with her. I doubted she was ever completely sober, or at least sober enough to drive anyway.”

I could see that he wanted to ask something, but contained the impulse. “What?” I insisted. I wanted him to know it was okay to talk about this. I was a big girl and I had already come to terms with the crappy aspects of my childhood. My fears were related to the adult aspects of life, believe me.

“I was just wondering if you never wanted to do this kind of thing with friends… Or boyfriends.”

With  _ someone meaningful _ , I recalled, but offered only a vague statement. “I guess the opportunity just never came up.”

He didn’t insist further, and a few minutes went by in silence, until I broke it; I checked my watch and realized we had already been driving for over forty-five minutes. “Are we going back home? We could have just changed our flight back, you know? If you hated it here so much... Did you get tired of Kelly?”

He smiled and I caught him biting his lower lip for a second. “Kelly again? She’s not that bad, actually. Besides, she’s been through some stuff.”

I shut down. Seriously? Was he defending her? So she  _ had  _ told him her life’s story, just as I had suspected, and it was a sad one, of course. Tailor-made for him to feel sorry for her. Damn it, I had no idea what she had told him, but I was already determined to believe it was a lie. Well, the endorsement from the girls the night before had done no favors for my default state of dislike of this woman. 

“Why does she bother you so much, anyway?” Elliot asked, bringing me back from my thoughts. 

He hadn’t sounded playful, this wasn’t us bantering about her anymore. He was really asking now. Maybe he had seen the places my mind had gone from the simple mention of her (which had been my fault, I know, don’t think I didn’t roll my eyes at myself for that), and now he wanted to know, seriously, what my problem with her was. Except that he  _ knew  _ what my problem with her was. Right? 

“You really have to ask?” I blurted out, making my own heart beat faster as I earned an enigmatic look from him, but no comeback; I wondered if that meant I had stunned him with my reply. Or confused him? This warmth in my heart thing was a bit dangerous – there I was saying things without thinking.

“But we’re not,” he turned to look ahead through the windshield once again. 

“You two are not what?” I blabbered suddenly, thinking he was still talking about Kelly.

“ _ We’re _ not,” he corrected me with a chuckle. “ _ We _ , you and me, are  _ not  _ going back home.”

I couldn’t contain a relieved sigh, but recovered quickly. “Ever?” I asked, and he just shook his head with another laugh. I was getting used to that sound, it seemed to ignite something in me, and I loved being the one to make it come out of him. “Where are we going then?”

He looked at his own watch, “You’ll find out in about ten minutes.”

And I did; about twelve minutes later, I saw the signs and found out we were driving into the Emerald Bay State Park. He parked the car and handed me a map that had been folded dozens of times to fit his back pocket as I got out of the passenger seat, as though I had finally earned the right to know where we were and why.

I unfolded the map, following the red sharpie line drawn from the Weller Northstar resort to Emerald Bay State Park. It was a long line. 

“I promised I’d take you down to see the lake,” he said.

I was a bit taken aback by the lengths – and distances – he had gone to in order to comply with my request. “But this… Weren’t there any nearer beaches?”

“Several, you saw them all as we drove. But everyone I asked told me that, hands down, this was the most beautiful place to see. Besides, we were a lot closer to it than we’d be in New York, right? A one-hour drive is nothing.”

As I imagined him  _ asking everyone  _ about the best place to see the lake from, wondering if that was the content of his conversations the night before while sending looks in my direction, I let the smile creep up from my insides to my lips and override my worries. “When you put it this way…”

I involuntarily held by breath when he held out his hand. “Just come with me.”

I’d come all this way. Giving him my hand wasn’t a big deal, just like the one-hour drive hadn’t been. Inside, I was going so much farther, giving so much more – he didn’t know and neither did I, which was for the best. His hand wrapped, firm, around mine, the kind of grasp that makes you feel safe. It was too bad he needed both hands to pay for our tickets, cutting our contact shorter than I would’ve wanted it to be.

As he did that, I realized we were no longer inside the resort; he was paying for everything, including the car, the gas, the tickets, and I assumed he had lunch somewhere planned if we were an hour away from the hotel. 

“Hey, let me chip in,” I said, even though I remembered I hadn’t brought actual money, just my credit card.

“We can share the cost of lunch,” he said, and I reluctantly agreed.

We joined a group that was leaving for one of the several hikes they offered; this one was supposed to be forty minutes long, and it took us the rest of the way down to the beach. The guide was explaining many things about the place, the woods, the rocks, the bay itself, but to be honest, we weren’t really listening. 

Elliot and I were walking a bit far from the group, in an unspoken agreement to just take it all in, physically experiencing the moment instead of hearing or thinking about it mentally. We could read and learn about this place whenever we wanted, but being there was a completely different thing, and we didn’t want to miss a second of it.

Before getting to the beach, we stopped at a few natural “observation decks” from which we could see the bay meeting the lake. I was bewildered, almost unable to believe such a beautiful place existed. There was also a silence that seemed to emanate from the trees and the water, even from the sky, as the birds provided the only music that seemed to be allowed in this place. It was as if nothing man-made was good enough to match the magnificence of nature here, and all there was left to do was surrender and watch, defeated. 

We took some pictures from these rocks, including a few pictures of the two of us together that a couple that was part of the hike was nice enough to take in exchange for us taking a few of them as well. 

“Are you guys on honeymoon?” The woman asked, out of the blue, when Elliot returned her camera. 

I had no idea what to say; this wasn’t the first time someone thought we were together here, but I could never come up with a quick, easy answer that explained exactly what we were and weren’t to each other. So while my mouth rehearsed a few syllables without getting much out, Elliot simply smiled. 

“Yes, we are,” he said, looking at me with a mixture of smugness, amusement and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint as he slowly slid his hand across my back to land it on the crook of my waist, pulling me to his side. “What about you guys?”

“On vacation,” the man said, taking the woman’s hand in his and interlocking their fingers. “But we’re still very much on honeymoon, too. Been married a year.”

“I could tell you guys had the same energy,” the woman added, as if to clarify the directness of her question. 

Apparently, she wanted to found the Tahoe Honeymooners Club and was screening for members, and I was a bit shocked at my crankiness, not such a far echo from my anger the night before; I realized it bothered me to pretend we were together. Maybe because we actually weren’t. But what did I care what everyone else thought? Was that really what was bothering me about this? 

As they walked away, I wordlessly disentangled myself from Elliot’s grasp and walked closer to the edge of the rocky ridge, staring out towards the water and listening to its faint sounds coming from the shore below. I stared for a few moments, letting the sun, the breeze, and the sounds of the birds and the water bring me back to the moment and get me out of that weird, momentary funk, putting me, however, right into another. 

I had these moments sometimes during perfect situations like this one, where I seemed to be living a unique moment, something I would never be able to get back; it was a longing, a longing for this even before it was gone, a feeling of need, the need to make the most of this moment, the fear of missing something crucial about the experience. 

“Wow, where did you just go?” Elliot asked softly, joining me, even if from a bit of a distance, seemingly sensing my discomfort from a few minutes earlier.

“Nowhere, just…” I started. “It’s hard to explain… I guess I’m just… afraid of not making the most of this. Afraid of missing out on something and regretting it later.” I chuckled without any amusement at myself. “And then I get worried about this and end up not savoring the moment, you know?”

He looked all around us, gesturing with his arm. 

“Look at this place,” he said, then looked back at me. “I think this is pretty fucking great, don’t you think?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“Then just savor it, Liv. Just savor this moment, right now.”

***

We walked the rest of the way down to the beach soon after that, and it was also quite breath-taking. We took a short stroll along the shore, and I wish it weren’t so cold so I could actually take my shoes off and dip my feet into the water. Instead, I just watched it, hitting the sand in slow, soothing waves. Elliot walked beside me in silence, too, but at a certain point, he took my hand again, letting our fingers naturally wedge between each other, and I bitterly wondered if it was a show to keep our cover as honeymooners. 

There I was, again, worrying instead of enjoying the moment. What did it matter why he was doing it? All that mattered was that it felt good to hold his hand. That I wanted to keep holding it. So I did.

He gave my hand a good, hard squeeze, making me look up to find him smiling lightly at me; we were just savoring the moment, I told myself. We were each other’s meaningful person, here, anyway. Might as well make the most of it, huh?  _ Pretty fucking great _ .

But still, there was something bothering me, and my hand tensed up, and it spread throughout my whole body. We stopped walking, both facing the water for a moment.

“Did that upset you back there?” he finally asked softly. 

Had it? Damn it, how could this man just read my mind like that? 

“I don’t know…” I answered truthfully, then turned to look at him. “I’m not sure if upset is the right word.”

He had taken his sunglasses off to see the view in all its glory, so I could actually look into his eyes; I felt better knowing he looked just as confused as me. 

He took a step closer. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” I rushed to clarify, but I didn’t even know if I was telling the truth or not. 

We stared at each other for a long moment; this was Elliot. What could be so scary about this? We got along naturally. We knew our way around each other instinctively, we didn’t need words. Maybe I didn’t need to find the correct term for what I was feeling, because I had the impression that not only he knew, but he was actually trying to tell me he felt the same. 

There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, and I figured it was mirroring mine. Was it sadness? Was that what I felt when someone thought we were a couple and he didn’t tell them we weren’t? I didn’t want to feel sad: we were in a beautiful place, living a unique moment, and being sad was not the way to make the most of it. 

I closed the distance between us and hugged him, and I couldn’t help but notice just how well my upper arms fit his shoulders, the perfect angle of my elbows surrounding him, my face finding the perfect spot against his neck, the smell of soap and his soft aftershave, a smell of any given morning at home. With him.

“I’m fine,” I said, with my hug and my words. “We’re good. It’s no big deal.”

He rubbed my back with one of his hands, and the other slowly came up to cup the back of my head. 

“Everyone just assumes we’re together…” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t know about you, but I think it’s easier to just let them think whatever they want than having to set them straight every time.” As if to make a point, he tightened his grip around me.

And suddenly I knew what was bothering me; I pulled away just a little.

“What about setting each other straight?” I asked, staring long and hard into those blue eyes, a whole furious ocean inside each, my constant thrill of diving and dread of drowning. 

I saw that he had no answer, not an easy one, anyway. I figured we were okay leaving it as an open question, like pretty much anything at that point, and as if to make  _ my  _ point, I cuddled closer to him, nuzzling my way into the junction between his neck and shoulder. 

You could say I was challenging it all, but to be honest, I didn’t want to lose my access. I liked my crook-of-his-neck, hand-in-his-hand privileges. I was most certainly not ready to give them up, and the possibility ran as a chill right up my spine to my own neck, fading away under his warm hand around my protected, defenseless nape.

“I guess it’s the same,” he said, lowering his voice, and I almost heard it more from his throat right next to my face than his mouth, all the way out there in the outside world. “Explaining is the most complicated part.”

Oh yes, it was. 


	8. Belly up

CHAPTER 8 - BELLY UP

  
  


There was a restaurant inside the Emerald Bay State Park where you could eat while continuing to admire the view, and we had lunch overlooking the bay and the lake. I forgot to eat sometimes (and honestly, I can’t remember what we ate), getting caught up in all the hues of blue, green, and white that I still couldn’t quite believe I was surrounded with. We ate slowly, ordered dessert and then coffee, making them all last longer than necessary just so we could stare a little longer. 

My breath got caught sometimes when I realized we were there, just the two of us, in what seemed like a parallel dimension, where we had access to all this beauty plus all the time in the world, time to drink coffee with a view that didn’t include blood or tears. Where we’d just admitted to not knowing what was going on between us after a hand-in-hand stroll at the beach.

Elliot’s voice interrupted my daydreaming. “You know… I had a lot of fun with everyone yesterday, but this… This is nice.”

It warmed my heart that he was happy spending time with me, just me. “Yeah, it is. Remind me again why we never do stuff like this.”  _ We _ . Even then it seemed dangerous to gamble with that word, but it felt so good. I was becoming addicted at a fast rate.

Luckily (or maybe not so much), he was playing with it too. “Well, we’re usually busy… working…”

I smiled. “Oh yeah, I’d almost forgotten about that.”

When Elliot excused himself to go to the restroom, I took the opportunity to pay for our meal, sensing he wasn’t going to let me chip in otherwise. He seemed surprised when he came back to find that the check had already been taken care of, but didn’t make a big deal out of it, and once I’d gone to the restroom as well and bought us a couple of water bottles for the rest of our little road trip, we were on our way. 

Elliot suggested we stopped at Tahoe City on our drive back, and I was amazed at how he had really worked on a whole itinerary for our day. When had he had time to come up with all that? Maybe that’s what he was doing while I was freaking out in my room the night before – much more productive. 

We stopped at Commons Beach, which was about a half-hour drive from Emerald Bay and also stunning. We walked a trail right next to the shoreline all the way to a marina. From the pier, we walked to the main street of Tahoe City, which was packed with stores and restaurants. We had just eaten, and I didn’t want to buy anything, so we just made one stop there, at a gift shop, because Elliot wanted to get a few souvenirs for his kids. 

As he chose a few Tahoe-themed t-shirts, mugs, and keychains, I wondered if he was also getting anything for Kathy. That simple thought sent a wave of unease coursing through my body that was almost like a physical pain. We were spending such a good day together, and I was mad at myself for letting this spoil it even in the slightest, but the way the simple mention of her, even just inside my own brain, hurt made me really scared about the feelings this trip was stirring inside me. 

I realized I was having some trouble breathing, so I faked a smile to Elliot and told him I would wait outside, not giving him any particular reason. I’m not sure he noticed I was less talkative on our way back to the car, but I sure tried my best to hide it. Once we were both in the car, he took off my scarf from around his neck and put it in one of the gift shop bags before tossing them at the backseat. I knew it was stupid, but I resented that he did that: what if that was the bag containing whatever present he was taking to his  _ wife _ ? I wanted to be as separated as I could from her. Now that I knew what it was like to be a whole country away from her, I realized how much I liked it.

Anyway,; I didn’t want him asking me the reason for my grumpiness – what was I supposed to say? I’m jealous because you might have bought a stupid present for your almost-ex-wife even though I have no right to feel like that? So I just sucked it up and focused on the stunning view on the drive back to Truckee, the town that was closest to our resort.: Tthe sun started going down, so we drove along that beautiful shore surrounding the lake while the sunset painted it all the colors it wanted around us. At one point, I was so overwhelmed by the beauty that I felt my eyes tearing up. 

Of course he noticed  _ that _ . “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows knit with a confused smile.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice slathered with way too many emotions I couldn’t make sense of or summarize in a simple sentence. Not even a complicated sentence. I waved at my window. “It’s just so beautiful… It’s…too much.” I shook my head and shrugged, keeping my eyes on him this time. “I’m happy;, that’s all.”

The confusion lifted from his smile as it grew a lot wider, and I caught myself staring at his lips and realizing how much I liked his chin and his neck. I smiled back, my glance protected behind the tinted lenses of my sunglasses as he reluctantly turned to look ahead. “Good,” he said.

I turned the radio on and flipped through the stations, looking for songs we liked this time instead of bantering about gospel music:; it gave us an opportunity to talk about our taste in music, which was actually surprisingly similar – although we did tease each other about a few questionable preferences. 

A song from a famous movie’s soundtrack got us talking about movies, too, and even books, although neither of us had a lot of time to read, especially Elliot. He said he’d been reading more lately, now that he was living on his own, that he was finding out it was quite a pleasant pastime to fight the loneliness and the silence, and it made me wonder what it must be like to have so much noise and people around you at home every day that you can’t focus on a book.

By the time we arrived at the car rental, the sky was already a dark hue of blue as night was quickly setting in, and we continued talking on the short walk back to the hotel. Of all possible subjects we could be discussing, we were engrossed in a heated discussion about whether cockroaches always turned on their backs when they died or not. I was insisting that I had never found a dead roach not lying on her back, and Elliot tried to be a smartass by telling me that all I needed to do was hit one with a shoe and I would see it dead on its belly. The truth is neither of us cared about how roaches died at all, the fun of it was challenging and annoying each other. 

It was already dark night when we walked through the resort’s main entrance, and the skating rink was lit up and full of fast-moving people, surrounded by the buzz of the village as the bars and restaurants filled for the night. Elliot really had planned our whole day, and it included dinner with Allie and her group at a Mexican place there, but we still had some time to go back to our rooms and change.

“If you wanna go, of course,” he said as we hopped into the shuttle to the main building. “If you’re tired or you would just rather not go…”

I remembered our conversation about how Kelly annoyed me in the morning, and I decided that saying no to this dinner might not be the best idea if I didn’t want him to think I held any grudges against her for no reason. “No, that’s okay. I think it will be fun,” I smiled, then stared at him a little as he sat with the gift shop’s offending bags hanging from his fingers between his legs. “When did you have time to set it up?” I asked with a crooked smile. “We left the bar before all of them did last night and kind of suddenly.”

“I was talking to the guys about Emerald Bay, and they suggested that we met them for dinner after we came back,” he clarified. “While I was at the store, Matt called me to tell me which restaurant and what time. They were skiing all day again today.”

My clothes were covered in sand from the walks on both beaches in the cold, windy weather, so I took them off and stepped into the shower. There was quite the amount of sand in my hair too, requiring a bit more shampoo than usual. I blow-dried it since we’d be going out in the cold again pretty soon and got dressed. I picked a wool blouse that I liked, put on my gold necklaces and applied some make-up, nothing too fancy, but maybe a little more mascara than usual, a different color of eyeshadow, that sort of thing. I wanted to look pretty, swearing to myself there was no special reason for that. 

To my surprise, I was ready before Elliot, so I didn’t find him waiting for me in the hallway outside my room. I waited for a minute, all the while fighting the urge to knock, but I didn’t resist for very long. I was knocking before I knew it, and similarly to the way I’d felt scared back in the gift shop, I wasfelt scared now about how impulsively I was acting. It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that I couldn’t keep my knuckles to myself.

He didn’t give me much time to scowl at my hands, opening the door so fast that it was as if he’d been waiting next to it or something. “Come on in, I’m almost ready,” he said, a hand to the forearm I wasn’t holding my coat and scarf with as he chewed on something.

I furrowed my brow. “What are you eating? Aren’t we about to have dinner?”

“It’s just some peanuts,” he pointed at the coffee table, where a laptop computer sat next to a beer bottle and a small bowl with peanuts. “Do you want any? Or a beer?”

I answered his question with another question. “You brought your computer?”

“Yeah, I was hoping to talk to the kids online, you know, video chats or whatever they call it.” He walked over to the table and retrieved his beer bottle. He took a swig of it, waving at the computer as he spoke. “We did one the first week they were away, so I figured… Hasn’t happened yet though.”

“I’m sorry, El,” I said, approaching him, and he extended the beer bottle to me. I took it and drank from it, the domesticity not lost on me.

“Check this out,” he said, sitting down on the couch and pressing the space key to make the screen light up. “I found this for you;, come take a look.”

He stood up again, making no effort to contain his cocky grin, and I wondered what could be so funny; I didn’t even need to sit all the way down before I’d caught sight of the title of the article he was showing me:  _ In Nature, Cockroaches Don’t Die Belly Up _ .

I laughed wholeheartedly. “Is this what you’ve been doing instead of getting ready? I can’t believe you actually did research on this.”

“I think you owe me a beer,” he said from behind the wall dividing the living room area from the actual bedroom. 

“No, I don’t!” I raised my voice to carry my protest through. “We didn’t really bet on it.”

“You fucking kidding me?” he said, playful, making me bite my lower lip as I smiled. 

It was such a stupid thing, but I somehow felt proud that a silly discussion like that would still be in his mind long enough to make him go online to try and find the answer just so he could torture me with it.

He came back, haphazardly rolling my scarf around his neck, and I stood up to go help him. 

“You’re making a mess,” I said, taking over scarf duty. 

Unintentionally looking into the bedroom, I caught sight of an empty beer bottle on the nightstand, next to the telephone. I carefully wrapped the scarf around his neck, happy to see it no longer associated with the souvenirs: it was ours again. I swallowed as I felt his cool breath against my face, a faint smell of beer. I risked looking up, and he was staring at me with a smirk. “What?” I asked.

He just shook his head and smiled. “We did bet on it, and you know it.”

I couldn’t contain my smile, but I tried to hide it by focusing on the scarf, already properly positioned a few hand movements ago. I pulled at it one last time and looked up at him. “Thank you. For today. I had a great time.”

To my surprise, he covered my hands with his around the scarf. “Of course,” he said. “So did I.”

***

  
  
  


When we got to the restaurant, everyone was already there, and they were all really excited to hear about our day which, at this point, everyone knew about. They were having some nachos as an entree and drinking cocktails, so we joined in and started telling them. Elliot motioned for me to speak, and I told them how he had planned this whole day for us without me even suspecting anything. 

Matt, Kyle, and Alvin claimed to have helped him figure out the itinerary, and he confirmed it. 

“The beach combo never fails,” Kyle said, elbowing Matt and eyeing Elliot with a few suspicious wiggles of his eyebrows. I tried looking at him inquisitively, but he just waved them off dismissively.

I noticed Kelly was a bit quiet in the middle of all the conversation, something I already knew by now not to be a typical thing for her. I wondered if she was jealous that I’d spent the day alone with Elliot, and I hated the satisfaction that possibility massaged my ego with. She was sitting across from me, next to Alvin and Greg. The latter, by the way, didn’t seem very thrilled about our day either. 

“So did you go skiing again?” I asked her, not sure if I wanted to survey her for her sudden quietness or if I actually felt sorry that she looked a little left out. Maybe it was both.

She smiled, and when she spoke, I noticed she was slurring a little – she did seem to be downing those drinks a bit quickly. “Yes, we did!” she said. “We missed you guys though. It’s not that much fun when I’m the only beginner.”

The speed of her alcohol intake seemed to ignite protective cop mode in me or something as she seemed to not be touching the food at all as she gulped repeatedly at her drink. “Do you want some nachos?” I offered, bringing one of the little baskets closer to us and taking a bite myself.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she shook her head very emphatically. 

“But um… Don’t you think you’re going a little fast with those drinks?” I risked, nudging the basket of nachos slightly in her direction. “Here, try one.”

“I don’t want any,” she whined, pouting like a baby, then looked up at me. “I miss my kid.”

I cocked my head with surprise. “You have a kid?”

“A girl,” she confirmed, the slur elongating the word quite a bit. “I was kinda young, she’s fourteen now.”

“That’s…” I started, with no clue about how to finish that sentence. 

Luckily, I didn’t have to:; out of nowhere, she reached for my arms, latching her hands firmly around my wrists. “Olivia, you’re so beautiful.”

I laughed with some surprise and a hint of anxiety. “Why, thank you…”

She squeezed me. “No, you are. You’re stunning.”

I shook my head and took a quick look around to see if anybody was listening, but everyone seemed distracted with other conversations, including Elliot – I think I heard something about hockey practice the next day. “You’re very beautiful yourself, Kelly,” I conceded.

She let go of one of my wrists so she could wave her hand. “Nah, I’m common. You have a different kind of beauty. You’re unique.”

I noticed Elliot’s head turning in my direction and caught his glance at the scene, Kelly holding my hand, complimenting my looks. He smiled, looking intrigued, as if waiting for a sign from me about whether everything was alright – like I even knew. 

“Olivia,” Kelly tugged at my hand, making me look at her again. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

I rushed her to the bathroom and shoved her into a stall just in time for her to start barfing into the toilet. I sighed; how had I ended up here, holding up Kelly’s hair while she threw up? 

When the retching subsided, she sat back, resting against the side of the stall as I crouched next to her. “Thanks, Olivia,” she said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked. “Any reason you were drinking like that?”

She turned slowly to look at me, her eyes filled with tears ready to drop. “I miss my husband,” she whimpered.

I couldn’t contain it: my jaw dropped. “Your...h-husband? You’re married?”

“Was,” she corrected. “We’re getting a divorce. That’s why Matt brought me along. He’s actually dangerous.”

As if cop mode needed any more ammunition. “Dangerous how? Was he abusive?”

“Yes. He never hit me…just...shoved me around a little bit. Screamed at me. Called me a liar, a cheater.” She took my hand again, a very tight grip. “I didn’t cheat, Olivia, I swear.”

I heard the voice I used on victims coming out of my mouth. “Did he threaten you?”

Kelly practically whimpered her reply. “He didn’t want me to leave him. He said I’d never find someone who loved me like he did. He said I was trash and no one would want me. He said he’d kill me if he saw me with someone else.”

“Abusive husbands say all that,” I said soothingly with a hand to her shoulder. “Do you have a restraining order in place? Did you change your locks?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” she slurred, with a hand to her forehead. “It’s all taken care of.”

“Well, I’m glad you were able to get out of it when you did,” I said, trying to sound as reassuring as I could. I remembered Elliot this morning.  _ She’s been through some stuff _ . No kidding.

“I had a lot of help from my family, especially Matt,” she told me.

“I’m really glad, Kelly.” I held her arms and started pulling her up since it looked like she was done throwing up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I led her to a sink and helped her wash her face. A woman came in then and made a face, judgment clear on her features: Kelly’s mascara was sliding down her cheek after she’d thrown water at her eyes. I took a paper towel and did my best to help her look presentable again.

“What about you and Elliot?” she asked suddenly.

“What about us?” I deflected while my heart rate responded immediately. 

I didn’t want to say there was nothing between us. Not to her. Even in light of everything she’d just told me. Maybe even more now, because she looked more and more like a damsel in distress, and that really scared me, because it was everything I wasn’t, and I was always scared that what men wanted, above everything else, was someone to save. But then I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be wondering what Elliot wanted in a woman. What the hell was I thinking?

“Come on, there’s something there, right?” she smiled with hooded eyes. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. “The way he looks at you…”

I tried to come up with an answer, but nothing seemed appropriate. That was fine, though, because the next second, Kelly rushed back into the stall and started hurling again. 

***

  
  


When I was finally able to bring Kelly back to the table, I noticed the group looking at us in a weird way. I helped her sit down, then took a seat next to Elliot, not the same I’d been sitting in before:; I just wanted to be close to him. I wanted it so badly that it scared me. I wanted to be alone with him. He instantly asked what was going on and if I was okay.

“I am;, Kelly isn’t,” I informed him, then looked around.; Tthere were new rounds of nachos and cocktails, and most people were part of an enthusiastic conversation I didn’t really get the hang of. Elliot was still looking at me, as though waiting for me to finish. I turned to him again. 

I didn’t plan it, it just rolled off my tongue. “Do you wanna get outta here?”

He nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

The heat I felt tingling in every cell of my body was overwhelming. I had no idea what I’d just invited him to, but he’d said yes and we were saying goodnights and leaving, my heart punishingly thumping in my chest. 

This man was killing me. I felt like a stupid cockroach, waving my arms and legs desperately as I died, belly up.


	9. Butterfly effect

CHAPTER 9 - BUTTERFLY EFFECT

_ “Do you wanna get outta here?”  _

_ “Sure, let’s go.” _

We didn’t have to walk much. There was no elevator either. We tried to keep a safe distance from each other, but as we moved in some sort of barely-controlled urgency, I was very much aware of his big frame next to me — and then behind me, while I clumsily fumbled in my pocket for my keys. 

He towered over me, his chest covering my back, his hands anchored against the doorframe on each side, and I forgot what I was supposed to be looking for. I panted heavy breaths as I felt him nuzzling my neck and taking a long whiff.

“Open the door,” he commanded, his head right next to mine, his low voice leaving a trail of goosebumps down my neck. 

“I’m trying,” I complained, then lost all speaking function when I felt his lips closing around the skin behind my ear, then nibbling at the softness of my lobe.

One of his hands came to rest on my shoulder for a second before it slithered down my arm and met my hand inside my coat pocket, his fingers grazing mine before wrapping around something that he retrieved, then displayed in front of me.

“This might help,” he said, showing me the key card before sliding it in and out of the metal lock which I had strangely not noticed before, his arm over my shoulder making me feel like I was his property — I was surprisingly glad. It made me feel  _ safe _ .

The unlocking sound immediately followed as the door opened to reveal the big bed that waited for us, no other furniture anywhere in sight. 

Elliot practically pushed me in, and I heard the door swing closed as he shoved me into the nearest wall, his mouth crashing over mine with such an imperative kiss that it stole my breath. I gasped for air when he moved to my neck, yet I had no memory of either of us getting rid of my scarf. I forgot all about that as his hands nimbly worked the buttons of my coat while waves of heat coursed down my body and converged between my legs.

The details escaped me — everything happened so quickly. Our clothes came off easily, so much so that I took no notice. All I knew was that his hands were getting closer and closer to my skin, and it burned in anticipation. When we were down to our underwear, we reached the bed, its proximity a blessing given our hurry. 

It was then, just as the moon highlighted his face from the wrong side of the room — the darkness in his eyes, his swollen lips, his determined expression — that it hit me that I was in bed with  _ Elliot _ . For the first time. Everything turned black and white as he pushed me down softly, both hands underneath my back working the clasp of my bra before he actually took a moment to take it off slowly. 

He bent down to kiss a trail from my throat to my collarbone to the swell of my breasts. His hands wrapped around them before he took one of my nipples into his mouth, and I involuntarily threw my head back as my fingers curled around the sheets.

It all felt so  _ real _ . The wet heat of his tongue teasing my skin. My hand wrapped around his length, rubbing it slowly. Even the slight discomfort at the intrusion when he entered me, quickly giving way to pleasure as he filled me completely.

But it wasn’t real, and that’s when I slowly became aware of my surroundings, as well as the loneliness in my bed. 

The hollowness in my body. 

Elliot wasn’t there with me, and he wasn’t filling me completely. The heat of his grunts huffed against my neck as he rocked into me had been a mere figment of my imagination — that’s how much  _ in my head _ all of this was.

I closed my eyes to hold onto the dream a little longer as my middle finger gently parted myself, the abundant slickness I found in there almost ejecting my hand — as if I needed to be reminded that this wasn’t going to cut it tonight. 

It was going to have to.

I wiped some of the moisture off on the sheets to give my finger some traction and started rubbing at my clit, so swollen and ready from the illusion of Elliot’s company. 

_ Open the door. _

His voice was clear in my ear, and it sent cold shivers throughout my body as I increased my ministrations, the dream still vivid in my head while I quite literally took matters into my own hands.

I felt my entrance pulsing with desire, displeased that it wasn’t getting what it wanted. I continued, taking myself close to the edge then stopping before starting it all over, knowing that it would heighten my forthcoming climax to make up for the overwhelming lack.

I made myself come thinking of Elliot and hated myself for it. 

It was now out in the open in every bit of space in my mind and every inch of my body that I wanted him, that I wanted him in my bed, just like in that dream. There was no denying that, in addition to all the other complex feelings towards Elliot that had been unearthed in the last couple of days, there was also the very simple and very compelling urge to  _ fuck  _ him. 

My orgasm didn’t help the feeling of emptiness where I wanted Elliot, but should probably never have him — and was probably never going to. My insides ached for him like I’d never ached for anybody, but he was in the next room aching for his broken marriage. 

He wasn’t aching to be inside of me, and that realization was the sour aftertaste in my mouth for the rest of the night as I kept replaying the actual facts of our departure from the restaurant over and over in my head, quite afraid to fall back asleep and have it be replaced by another dream that couldn’t be converted into existence. 

I had to keep reality very present, I reminded myself as I went back to earlier that night. 

This is how it  _ really _ happened: even now I remember how my heart thumped in my chest with unforeseen violence as we left. It seemed to reverberate on the ground around me when we reached the cold air outside. I could feel it as I walked next to Elliot and pretended he was mine.

_ Do you wanna get outta here? _

My question kept repeating in my mind as I couldn’t seem to shake my own incredulity. Had I gone insane? I didn’t even have enough alcohol in my system to justify the impulsiveness of my suggestive invitation. All I knew was that I wanted to be alone with him, and there was nothing rational about it. 

I was  _ not _ an emotional person when it came to men, and in that moment, I missed always being in control, lost in the maze I had created with all these feelings since we had arrived. But then again, a small part of me had to admit that maybe I didn’t miss the way that the old version of me didn’t  _ feel _ anything as opposed to this one, who felt everything, who felt the ripples of every butterfly flapping its wings in the pit of her stomach.

I had always protected myself from feeling too much, but it seemed like this place had the power of disabling all of my defenses, unveiling everything that had always been utterly forbidden in my partnership with Elliot — the avalanche of feelings that were now allowed to wreak havoc inside of me was overwhelming to say the least.

It wasn’t alcohol that was taking away my control, but I was definitely under the influence.

I looked at Elliot as we shared a seat in the shuttle on our way back to the main building while, inside my head, I slid down the ladder of level after level of the deafening and continuous inner monologue before finally reaching the present to contemplate that he was quiet, his lost stare directed at some moving spot through the window. Actually, it took me a while to notice it, but he looked a little  _ upset _ .

The butterflies went wild with the most varied theories; their fluttering made me nauseated.

“Are you alright?” I asked softly, a light touch on his arm just to call his attention, I told myself. I was just trying to be a good friend.

Without looking at me, he shook his head and poorly concealed a burp. “I’m fine,” he said. 

It slowly dawned on me that maybe he regretted agreeing to come with me: maybe that was the reason he was acting cold now, avoiding my gaze, not saying a word. Maybe he’d been a bit more inebriated than usual, and it had clouded his judgment. Maybe he had only realized after saying  _ yes _ what my invitation could entail.

And what was that exactly? Maybe the answer was more obvious from the outside. I shuddered as I avoided it inside my own head, the screaming voices’ endless arguments useful for once as they made me slightly deaf to the thoughts I couldn’t really admit to having at that point.

Thoughts involving touching that had nothing to do with being a good friend. Thoughts that would later manifest in a dream that would haunt me in wakefulness.

_ Open the door _ .

I resigned myself to silence as I withdrew my hand and abandoned Elliot to his thoughts, whatever they were, accepting that we were calling it a night. With what little rational thought I had left, I figured that he had either understood from my invitation that I just wanted to leave (improbable, honestly), or that what I wanted was something he had inadvertently agreed to by walking out of that restaurant — an agreement he would have to awkwardly take back as soon as we stepped into the seventeenth floor.

Either way, that was where our night was fated to end: in the hallway, right outside our doors. I was avoiding any form of eye contact as we took silent steps towards our rooms and already had my key card in my hand when he spoke. 

“Hey… Did you wanna come inside and have something to drink? I’m not exactly sleepy yet.” He swiped his key card and pushed the door in while he stared at me with a distant longing.

That caught me off-guard and debunked all my theories, rational or otherwise. “S-sure,” I stuttered, walking in behind him.

“Beer?” he said almost indifferently as he led the way and turned left towards the kitchen area. 

I watched him shed his coat, scarf, and jacket on his way to the fridge, forming a straight line right in front of me, and I couldn’t help but feel like one of the discarded items. I started to suspect the invitation for a drink had a lot more to do with the  _ drink _ than with  _ me _ .

I took the beer that he absentmindedly handed me, his eyes still busy with random targets instead of engaging with mine as I tried to read him and his intentions. I took a long sip that burned its way down my throat with anticipation for something I couldn’t dare name and that I was beginning to fear was never going to come. 

Elliot drank too, emptying almost half of the bottle as he walked aimlessly between the kitchen counter and the coffee table like he couldn’t settle down, like he needed his whole body moving in order to process whatever it was that had put him in this sudden funk, his mood a far cry from the playful Elliot I had found earlier in the evening.

That reminded me of the empty bottle I’d seen then as we’d both drank from another; I added those to the cocktails at the restaurant and this new amount of golden liquid he was so hurriedly gulping down. Yep, he was drunk. 

“What’s up with you?” I finally asked, my previous nervousness subsiding as it got quickly replaced with worry. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re drinking like that? Or do I need to take you to the bathroom to puke first? Already done that once tonight.” 

Elliot just shrugged, finally making his way towards his couch, his gaze still evading mine. “Same as always. I’m a lousy father, husband, man.”

I sat next to him, feeling myself and my hopes disappear as I put an innocent hand on his forearm. “What happened?”

He sighed in a dry chuckle that bore no humor as he raised his head slightly to finally meet my stare, his brow furrowed. “Kathy won’t let me talk to my kids until I sign the divorce papers.”

My heart skipped a beat and replaced it with a double backflip. “You haven’t signed them yet?”

Of course he hadn’t signed them. I cursed my stupidity thinking that, just because he’d been served with the fucking papers, he would have signed them already. He would have signed them at all. What in the world had possessed me to think that he even wanted to?

“I conveniently forgot them at home,” he smiled, taking another swig that left his bottle almost empty, his eyes full of sadness in contrast.

That’s when I knew he was gone. We were in his room, alone, but he was worlds away, and everything I had been agonizing over until then was completely irrelevant.

I deeply felt the rejection in the fact that what I had deemed so blatantly obvious hadn’t even gone through his mind. He had  _ never _ suspected any illicit intentions on my part. 

I tried to think back to those times when I’d had the feeling he was flirting with me, but the denial of everything was so all-encompassing that I couldn’t even think of a single example, the voices in my head no longer debating: they were now chanting in cruel unison that I had imagined it all.

Elliot had a family to think about, and that was always going to be front and center, no matter how many road trips he planned with me. He was just being polite — and expecting me not to get it all wrong, expecting of me the partnership and friendship we’d had for almost seven years.

I shook my head as I swallowed more beer and my pride and my misguided expectations for the night, for the trip. For life. I heard my own friendly, partnerly voice coming out of my mouth. “She can’t withhold contact with your kids, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah, well…” His bottle didn’t survive another sip and ended up abandoned on the coffee table, the condensation that had once covered it quickly conjuring a pool around it. 

“Elliot…” I said, but he continued to stare out into whatever imaginary point he’d found now. “You’re not a lousy father and you know that.”

“Yeah, whatever… For all I know, Kathy is telling them the exact opposite, and they’ll believe it, ‘cause she won’t let me talk to them and they’ll never get to hear my side.”

“You’re a great father.” I paused. I fidgeted in my seat, and the next part just escaped my mouth without warning. “If I’d had a father like you…”

I bit my lip, but it was too late. He had already turned to me with that insufferable glint of pity in his eyes. 

“Never mind,” I said in a rush. “I was just saying—”

Elliot interrupted me with a hug, out of the blue, and no words, just a sorry silence that rang loud in my ears. 

“I’m fine,” I promised. Pleaded, really.

“I know,” he said, still refusing to let me go. “You just deserved better, is all.”

That was not the kind of interaction I wanted. It certainly wasn’t the kind of interaction I had been sinfully thinking about in clandestine corners of my mind. I didn’t want for him to hug me out of pity or make my s’mores for me because I’d never had someone teach me or plan trips for me because my mother had never taken me anywhere. 

But still, he was holding me. It was too powerful.

I relaxed into his embrace, because it was too hard not to. This man I wanted so much, that I was slowly starting to admit I wanted so much, had me in his arms, and whatever the underlying cause had been, I didn’t have it in myself to disentangle from them. At least not immediately.

“Thanks,” I said eventually, pulling back a little until he took the hint and let his arms slid off of me. I stood up from the couch, keeping my eyes as far away from him as I could. “I just meant to say you’re a great father and you should never doubt that.”

I needed to get the hell out of there. I left my half-full bottle of beer on the coffee table next to his empty one and said I was getting sleepy. He didn’t protest as I left and went to my room with a million unanswered questions.

It was so humiliatingly obvious now that it was all in my head. This was  _ Elliot _ . What the hell was I thinking? He didn’t see me that way. And even if he did, he was way too focused on salvaging his marriage, rebuilding his family: that was always going to be his priority. 

I chastised myself. I normally had no problem flirting with anyone. On the contrary, I was  _ good _ at it. I could make pretty much anyone leave a bar with me — and they didn’t need to be drunk, and they certainly didn’t get more drunk and complained about family problems to me.

But this was Elliot, and there was a reason I had never allowed myself to  _ really _ wonder if there could be something more between us. I had never doubted myself this much. I had never doubted how attractive I was, how interesting. I was used to being able to make any men want me if I really wanted to, but  _ this was Elliot _ . I couldn’t make him do anything. 

Him and me becoming something more during this vacation, this idea that had been permeating everything since we’d hopped together on that plane: my mind had conjured it just as much as it conjured the dream I was about to have as I lay down in my bed for the night. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


I woke up the next day with a resolution: to forget this Elliot thing. I had let Casey, Allie, Silvia, and even Kelly convince me that there was something there, but the truth was that none of them truly knew the kind of relationship that we had and what it could ever turn into. 

Or what it could  _ never _ turn into.

I was just glad I hadn’t said or done anything too compromising, like trying to kiss him or something — even as the sensation of his imaginary kiss in my dream ghosted my lips. 

It was almost 11AM, and breakfast was almost over at the main building’s restaurant. Coincidentally, there was a message for me at the front desk — Allie and the other girls were inviting me to go have brunch and then go skating. I figured it was the perfect opportunity to get some distance from Elliot. 

I just sent him a text before heading to the restaurant where they’d told me to meet them, down at the village.

_ Feeling better?  _

He didn’t reply, so I thought he must be still sleeping. When I met the girls, they told me the guys were going to invite him to hockey practice for the game the next day, so I figured it was a good thing he was going to have something to do on his own as well. 

Kelly was supposed to come along with us but, predictably, she texted Allie saying she had the worst hangover and was going to stay in her room. She was going to join us for practice if she felt better, but she never showed up.

I was thankful for that, especially when, still during brunch, Allie and Silvia asked me about Elliot. 

“You guys disappeared last night,” Allie said, raising a meaningful eyebrow.

“It was nothing,” I said, and that’s why I was relieved Kelly wasn’t there; I wouldn’t have wanted to admit that nothing had even come close to happening in front of her. “He had a bit too much to drink too, he’s facing some family problems… Basically, I listened to him whining about it until the beer made him too sleepy to continue.”

They seemed disappointed, and I just shrugged. “I don’t think anything’s gonna happen there,” I clarified, then proceeded to lie through my teeth. “And it’s for the best. He’s separated, and his family is a lot of drama. I don’t think it’s worth the trouble anyway.”

Whether they bought it or not was a different story, but my goal was achieved: they dropped the matter altogether and never brought it up again for the rest of the day.

We went for ice skating practice in the indoor rink. The same way that there was a major gear store to rent skiing equipment by the mountain, here there was a huge place as well. Silvia gave the rest of us pointers on what to wear — especially me, the newbie. I mechanically followed her advice while my mind kept trying to go elsewhere.

I thought skating was going to be easier than skiing; it certainly sounded more intuitive, but I was wrong. The thing with skating was the ice: it was  _ so _ slippery. I fell quite a few times, but the padding I was wearing kept me from getting hurt. Silvia was a very patient teacher, and by the end of the afternoon, she had me skating somewhat autonomously, my falls reduced to a minimum. 

If I could remove the fog that had covered that entire day with the effort required to keep Elliot out of my head, I could probably tell you that I’d had fun. Skating had almost been enough to distract me from the incessant thoughts telling me how stupid I’d been for ever considering anything between him and me a possibility.

I was about to hit the shower in the rink’s locker room when I saw that he had replied to my message a few hours earlier.

_ Yeah, much better. Gonna practice hockey now, enjoy skating. _

Cold, I thought. Detached. I snapped the phone shut trying to ignore how much a few words on such a small screen could hurt with their inherent disregard.

I convinced the girls to get a coffee before going back to the main building — the truth is I still needed some distance from Elliot. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again and facing all my frustrated hopes. I guess I still felt a bit humiliated, even though both the flirting and the subsequent rejection had all happened exclusively in my head.

At the cafe, Allie got a text from Matt: they wanted to meet us at a sandwich place at the village for dinner, and then go skating in the outdoors ice rink, since we had all been practicing. I didn’t want to be the one person to say I didn’t feel like socializing any longer, so I just gave Allie a cover-up smile while the butterflies woke up.

Seeing Elliot was a bit of a shock: I was struck by how  _ good  _ he looked. It was as if he had grown taller, his shoulders wider, as if his eyes had turned bluer, his jaw firmer. As much as I’d told myself I was dreading the moment we’d meet again, when I laid eyes on him it was clear: that day had been nothing but boring, endless waiting for him. It terrified me that just one day away had made me miss him that much; it was as if nothing else could hold my interest if it didn’t involve him.

Kelly arrived with them. She had probably just come along in the shuttle after spending all day in her room recovering, but that voice in my head wondered if she had gone to the guys’ practice instead of joining us for skating. I was half-convinced she had been pursuing Elliot the whole time we were apart. 

She sat next to him during dinner, talking to him and touching his arm all the time, and I could barely hold any appetite to finish two thirds of my sandwich at the furthest corner of the table where I’d purposefully sat to stay away. I also avoided his stare, not sure if I was afraid I would or would  _ not _ catch him looking at me. 

When we were all gearing up to go skating again, he came to me. I was shocked by the physical reactions ignited by his presence — I had the clear impression that they were getting stronger every day.

_ Open the door _ .

“You avoiding me?” he asked point blank, some dissatisfaction clear in his expression.

“Me?” I spun to look at him. “Of course not.”

“I thought we were supposed to stay together,” he said questioningly, a crooked smile playing at his lips. 

His warm lips.

“Well, we did separate things today,” I explained, then joked. “It’s not as if I could practice hockey with you, I can barely stand on my own in these skates.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said as he tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at me. “Was it something I said last night? Did I say or do something that upset you? I drank a bit too much.”

“I’m not upset, El,” I insisted, using his nickname for leverage and forcing a smile. “Everything is fine. Can we please just go skate?”

He stared at me for another moment, a weird tone to his voice, almost as if he was daring me. “Sure. Can we skate together?”

“You might need to catch my fall a few times,” I smiled, steering clear of his eyes.

“Not a problem,” he retorted, serious. 

The rink looked beautiful, and I have to admit I had wanted to skate in it from the moment I’d first seen it from the window of the car that had brought us to the hotel. It was a very cold night, but as we kept moving, my body temp increased and made it bearable, while the beauty made it worthy. 

If only nothing else was weighing heavy in my heart.

I was doing a lot better at the skating itself, which allowed me to control the distance between me and Elliot as we skated: I made sure there were always a few feet keeping us apart as he told me how hockey practice had been and asked questions about my afternoon.

He seemed more than ready to fall back into our old dynamic, but I was not. 

Internally, I was panicking because I knew then that our old dynamic was now unbearable to me. No matter how much I was still trying to ignore it, the fact was that I had opened my eyes to my feelings for him, and now I couldn’t unsee them. There was no putting the pin back in the grenade; this was all going to blow up inside of me, and there was nothing I could do to avoid the death and destruction.

“I hadn’t played in a long time,” Elliot was telling me, “but hockey doesn’t require much more than just moving fast on these skates and shoving other guys around, at least not for the enforcer.”

I knew next to nothing about hockey, but I laughed because I knew that the “enforcer” was a guy whose main duty was to keep the adversary from being violent against the team’s players — by being violent with them. 

“Just be careful not to get hurt,” I warned, chuckling at the fact that I should have given myself such warning before accepting the invitation to this stupid vacation.

That’s when I slipped, almost losing my footing, but Elliot put his arm around me quite roughly to keep me steady. 

It did anything but.

The unexpectedness of his touch sent me reeling, and our sudden proximity sent waves of heat defying the cold and hitting me in my core. Even as I regained my balance completely, he didn’t let me go. Maybe he knew he was about to make me lose it all over again.

“I missed you today,” he whispered into my ear, and I swear the world started spinning as I asked myself if that had really happened or if I had started  _ hearing things _ now.

_ Open the door _ . It was the same low voice, delivered in the same way.

My left arm reached desperately for his while his right one was still firmly wrapped around my torso, maybe a bit more firm than necessary, his fingertips boring holes into the dip of my waist and sending electrical waves in every direction. “Me too,” I heard myself pathetically replying.

Elliot carefully removed his arm from around me, offering it for me to hold instead, which I took, still not confident enough in my own legs, absolutely hating his effect on me and my inability to tell whether it was intentional or not. 

He was no help; he gave me no other clues that night. Still letting me lean on his arm for the rest of our run in the rink, Elliot made no mention of the way he had touched me or spoken to me while my head spun mercilessly. I wished we could go back to before that stupid trip. I wished I could stop wanting him. I wished he didn’t give me any signs. I wished he gave me more signs, clearer signs. 

But he just talked about hockey like nothing else was happening. 

And, technically, nothing was.


End file.
